Ice and Steel
by Skull Bearer
Summary: The course of love is seldom smooth, especially if you're Raistlin Majere. Emotions may be shared but there are still brothers to escape, sisters to avoid and, hanging over all, there is the thundercloud of impending war. Third in 'Ivory and Ebony' series
1. Brothers and Sisters

_I own nothing except the story. No, actually I don't even own that.  
This takes place during the Soulforge and will call upon a lot of what happens there._

Ice and Steel

**Brothers and Sisters**

_Lost in this place, like fragments of another time  
I close my eyes and see myself from above  
Drifting apart, like splinters of scattered glass  
But we all have our own reasons to continue_

_Kovenant- Stillborn Universe_

The spring festival had been celebrated the same way in Solace for generations, there was dancing, food, drink and always a large fire burning in the evening in the large clearing, well away from the vallenwoods.

Changes had, of course, occurred, dancing styles changed, and there had been the welcome addition of Otik's spiced potatoes to the feast.

Generally however, the spring festival was seen as an occasion to make merry and celebrate the arrival of warmer, longer days after a long winter spent indoors.

Despite the rather abnormally wet weather earlier in the month, the past few days had been dry and good firewood was none too hard to find, allowing the festivities to continue in the time honoured fashion it always had.

Around the roaring fire were logs, cut in half to serve as seats for those who were not dancing.  
One of these was Raistlin.

He felt, quite honestly, irritated, he had been quite happy studying his books that evening, thank you very much, before Caramon (whose leg was, unfortunately, healed) had dragged him out, books and all, to 'enjoy' himself.

He couldn't continue reading; to do so he had to get so close to the fire that the paper risked igniting, so he spent his time watching the dancers through the flames.  
Why in the Abyss his brother had thought he would enjoy himself was a mystery to Raistlin, he was tired, he hated dancing and couldn't do it anyway, the food was no more appealing than that in their larder and the company was something he could most definitely do without.

No doubt Caramon wanted felt more than a little left out and wanted to spend some time with his ever-more distant twin-

Raistlin broke off brooding as a hand fell on his shoulder, he turned to see the only person whose company was and would always be welcome.  
"Did they finally let you go?" He asked.

Dalamar snickered, "Yes, although that implies that I wanted to go initially, all throughout the guardsmen's little discussion as to whether it was proper to let a Black robe attend a festival, no one actually asked if I even wanted to attend. As to why I did come, I heard you were here."

"Caramon's doing, not mine." Raistlin rolled his eyes as if the very mention of his brother annoyed him.

Dalamar sat down beside him and caught his lover's hand in his own, smiling.

Raistlin had met Dalamar some weeks previously, on the road back from Qualinesti while on a completely pointless expedition to barter spell components from the elves. The Elven Black robe had been travelling north from Tarsis, away from a life he still refused to discuss in any detail with anyone, even Raistlin. It had taken several exceedingly confusing and frustrating days where he had attempted repeatedly to see through the Dark elf's masks, while Dalamar tried to do the same, he'd spent the week feeling like a spider trapped in it's own web.

As the basis for a deep relationship, it wasn't the stuff of legends.

Yet love it was, although for the life of him Raistlin couldn't begin to understand how.

He had returned to Solace, Dalamar in tow, and after a good deal more confusion concerning Raistlin's half sister Kitiara, who also was rather interested in the Dark elf; a feeling, which, the human had been relieved to find out, was not returned.

There were of course problems, the Solace guards were not happy to learn that a Dark elf had come to their town and would be living there until further notice. Dalamar was not forbidden to live there, Solace was an open town, which welcomed strangers, as long as they followed the laws, but the feeling was there all the same.

Another problem had been the nature of his and Raistlin's relationship, although homosexuality was not actually condemned as a crime, it was more of a matter of shame which others mocked. Such people were seen as being unable to get a member of the opposite sex and so have to settle for one of the same.

This in itself led to other troubles.

Dalamar was very attractive in anyone's books, and no one could quite understand why he kept turning down offers of 'companionship', preferring instead to stay with a scrawny, sly nineteen year old mage who nobody liked.

And not turning them down very politely either.

The rumours spread about the pair of them had been incredibly annoying, and they had both reached an unspoken decision to ignore it while in public, and threaten gossipers in private. It had worked quite well so far.

Other than this, life was enjoyable, Raistlin knew that their relationship was no act of manipulation on his or Dalamar's part (a week of reading each other's minds had put pay to that theory), simply love and affection, so why should he refuse one of the only boons he had ever been offered in life?

The only reactions he had truly been apprehensive about were those of the few who were closer to him.

Kitiara had been very cold and rather vindictive towards him, better than the mockery he had expected, most likely she was still slightly stunned as to why Dalamar had passed her over in his favour.

Sturm's reaction was rather amusing and predictable; he hated Dark elves, he hated Black robes and he hated Raistlin, nothing changed there, they just avoided the young Solamnic at all times.

Caramon though... Ah Raistlin thought; Caramon was another subject completely.

His thoughts were broken off when Dalamar got up and tugged at his hand. "Shall we go back home"  
Raistlin nodded, he'd had more than enough of the festival.

Dalamar had in fact rented a room in the Inn of the Last Home when he had first arrived in Solace, he did menial work; charming vermin away from warehouses mostly to pay for it. However after the first few days Otik had asked Dalamar leave the room free, it was spring and he needed all the rooms his inn had and Dalamar hadn't actually used the room at all, he had been spending nights with Raistlin and had only been using his room as a place to keep his meagre belongings. Raistlin certainly didn't mind and Caramon had agreed, apparently happy for Raistlin. This didn't really change anything for Dalamar, just that now he gave most of what he earned to his lover.  
Dalamar didn't accept charity from anyone.

The two mages fought their way through the dancing and mostly drunk crowd to get back towards the bridge walks and from there back to the house.  
The fire made the dancing area and the people in it a rather surreal image, and Raistlin was very glad when the got out of the thick of it.

They were just leaving the clearing, talking under the noise and music, when one voice broke through it.  
"Raist!"

Raistlin shut his eyes briefly; leave me alone.

Caramon was jogging towards them, red faced and grinning, "Where are you going?"

"Home." Raistlin said shortly.

His brother's face fell, "What, already? It's only started."

"It's a good deal more than started and I didn't want to come anyway, we are going home." Raistlin began to walk away.

"Oh." Caramon looked a little lost, and then started to follow.

"Alone." Raistlin said with finality, scowling.

They walked off leaving Caramon standing listlessly just outside the ring of firelight.

Dalamar was smiling, "Interesting character, your brother." He said quietly

Raistlin snorted, "I've had more interesting conversations with a tea kettle."

The elf laughed, "I agree he would not make very stimulating company and I would definitely not seek him you, but he does seem to need your company."

Raistlin had seen far less of his brother when he had returned from Qualinesti, simply because he had spent his time almost continually with Dalamar. He hadn't missed his brother, but Caramon clearly had missed him.

Raistlin shook his head, "He might need me and perhaps I need him too in turn, but that doesn't mean I enjoying being with him, or anyone else although there is one marked exception."

He quickly glanced around to make sure they hadn't been followed, and then leant forward to brush a kiss on the elf's lips. Dalamar smiled and slid an arm around his waist, leaning up against him as they walked on.

They never actually got home; they'd stopped on the walkway above the clearing and had spent the time watching the crowd of dancers drift off in ones and twos.  
Mostly twos.

Raistlin was rather amused to see Caramon take Miranda, a clothier's daughter and probably the most sought after girl in Solace, in his arms and sweep her literally off her feet and walk off up a walkway and towards their house.

"This could be problematic." Raistlin sighed, pointing at his brother.

"How exactly?" Dalamar looked at over where Caramon and Miranda had just vanished.

"Do you want to be home while they are in there?"

"Point." Dalamar smiled.

The clearing was almost empty now, all the dancers left for home. The night's chill was getting more pronounced.

"Shall we go?" Raistlin's voice broke through the silence that had fallen.

"Go where?" Dalamar was leaning against the wooden railing of the walkway.

"I don't know, does it matter? We'll be the only ones out at this time of night." Dalamar shrugged, it was obviously all the same to him.

It was very quiet; walking aimlessly among the vallenwoods branches, so quiet they could hear themselves breathe, so quiet that when a voice broke the silence it made both of them start.

"You sot!" A voice that was unmistakably Kitiara's came from below them. Dalamar and Raistlin stopped walking to listen.

"Keep me waiting in the cold for hours while you suck down rotgut, will you! I've half a mind to slit your ale-swilling belly!"

"I am not past our meeting time," A cold and surprisingly sober voice countered, "If anything, I am early. And one cannot sit at a tavern, even in a tavern as wretched as The Trough, without drinking, though I am thankful to say that more of the foul liquid the barkeep has the temerity to call ale is no me that inside me. The barmaid helps herself to her own wares apparently, she managed to spill nearly a whole flagon on me."

Quietly as a cat, Dalamar crouched down and peered over the edge of the walkway, clearly the darkness was no match for his eyes because he beckoned Raistlin down and whispered "It's your sister down there, and a man I haven't seen before."

"What does he look like?" Raistlin hissed back, if the description was of someone he knew, it might shed light on the situation.

"Cloaked and hooded, I can't see any more." Dalamar spoke softly, afraid of being heard and missing the rest of the conversation.

"Let's get down to business." Kitiara finished, they had missed the rest of what she said.

"Maps?" The man asked, Raistlin was just about to ask what was happening when Dalamar placed a finger to his lips. Be quiet.

"See for yourself." Kit's voice this time. There was a faint rustle of parchement.

"It's all there" She continued, "Plus more than your lord asked for. The defences of Qualinesti are dealienated on the main map: number of guard posts, number of guards posted, how often the guards are changed, what type of weapons they carry, and so forth. I walked the entire border of Qualinesti myself twice. I've marked on different map the weak spots in their defence, possible areas of penetration, and I've indicated the easiest access routs from the north."

Raistlin glanced at Dalamar again. The elf had shrunk back from the edge of the walkway and lay a hand on Raistlin shoulder. "Don't move." He breathed, almost inaudibly. "Don't move a muscle, they're both very alert for any noise."

"This is excellent," the man said. Another rustle. "My lord will be pleased. What else have you heard about Qualinesti? I hear you've taken a half-elf lover who was born up in-ulp!" The man stopped speaking abruptly.

When Kitiara spoke, her voice was lethal. "You leave him out of this! If you think I would demean myself to sleeping with any man in order to gain information, you're wrong, my friend. And you could be dead wrong if you say or do anything to make him the least suspicious."

The hiss of steel being drawn emphasised he point all too well.

"Sorry Kit. I didn't mean anything by it. How did you get away tonight?"

"I told him I was spending the night with my brothers." Kitiara's voice was calmer now, "I'll have my money now."

Another rustle, that of cloak and leather, then the clink of coin.

"There's more where that came from if you happen to pick up any additional information about Qualinest and the elves. Information that you just happen to find 'lying around'."

Kit chuckled "How do I contact you?"

"Leave a message at The Trough. I'll stop by whenever I'm passing this way. But won't you be travelling north soon"  
"I don't think so. I'm happy enough where I am for the time being. There's my little brothers to think of."

"Uh-huh." Grunt.

"They're getting to the age where they might be some use to us"  
Dalamar gave Raistlin a sharp glance, Raistlin shook his head, he knew nothing of this.

"I've seen them around town. The big one we could use as a soldier maybe, though he's clumsy as a kobold and looks about as bright. The other though-the magic user that hangs around with that Dark elf. Rumor has it that they're quite talented. My lord would be please to have them join his ranks."

"Rumor has it wrong!" Kit snapped. "Raistlin can pull a coin out of his nose and that's about it, the elf I don't know about but he's love-blind for my brother."

"Lord Ariakas would be pleased to have you join us as well, Kit. On a permanent basis. You'd make a fine commander. He said so."

"I didn't know His Lordship and I were on such familiar terms, I've never met the man."

"He knows you, Kit. By sight and by reputation. He's impressed and this will impress him further. He's prepared to offer you a place in his new amry. It's a great opportunity. One day he will rule all of Ansalon, and after that all of Krynn."

"Indeed?" Kit sounded impressed. "He doesn't think small, does he?"

"Why should he? He has powerful allies. Which reminds me. How do you feel about Dragons?"

Dragons? Raistlin wondered, what it this man talking about?

"Dragons!" Kitiara sounded amused. "I think they are fine for scaring the wits out of little children, but that's about all. What do you mean?"

"Nothing in particular. You wouldn't be afraid of them, would you?"

When Kit next spoke, he voice held a dangerous edge. "I fear nothing in this world or the next, does any man say any different?"

"No one says different, Kit, my lord has heard us all speak of you courage. That's why he wants you to join us."

"I'm happy here, for the time being at least.

"Suit youself, the offer still stands if you ever want to take it up."

"I might, we'll see. I'll be in touch."

With that, the conversation stopped and footsteps echoed off into the gloom.

Dalamar's grey eyes glinted at Raistlin in the moon's light.  
"What was that about?" He murmered.

_Most of Kitiara's speech was copied from The Soulforge.  
Please review._

_Skull Bearer._


	2. Ariakas and Plans

_Dalamar Nightson: Agh! bangs head on keyboard I am so stupid! Sorry for that mistake, entirely my fault. Yes, I am trying to make this as canon as possible (if only because I can't write anything as good as the original).  
  
Alien21xx: Good, that's what I was trying to do, thanks for the review.  
  
Elly Stormrage: I will.  
  
Sorry about last chapter, I left in a note from my beta by accident, please ignore it._

_I did say I wouldn't be updating, but plot bunnies never take no for an answer.  
  
Jumping perspective for a bit here, I wanted to get a small view through Caramon's eyes. He doesn't like Dalamar much._

_Dedicated to Dalamar Nightson for the reviews and Kady Mae for her wonderful beta work._  
  
**Ice and Steel**

Chapter 2: Ariakas and plans  
  
_Don't you want it this way?  
Don't you need it this way?  
Don't you love it this way?  
Don't you need it anyway...  
  
-Kovenant, Stillborn Universe  
_  
Caramon watched sadly as his brother vanished up the walkway into the gloom. He just didn't like that Dark elf, simple as that; he was sure Dalamar was just using his brother for his own ends, but when he had suggested this to Raistlin his brother had stared at him incredulously and asked Caramon when his choice of lovers had been his business?  
  
Although Caramon did consider it his business, it had been his business from the moment when he had met Dalamar, the day he'd walked into his brother's bedroom one day and found him tangled up in bed with the Dark elf.  
  
He winced at the memory and the recollection of Raistlin's scathing voice; "Have you ever considered knocking, my dear brother?"  
  
He hadn't spoken, just left the room as fast as he could, much to the amusement of its occupants.  
  
At least Raistlin had consulted him when before he asked the mage to stay with them. Caramon had agreed because even if the Dark elf was using his brother, he wouldn't deny anyone who made Raistlin happy. Despite the fact that he'd apparently been thrown aside...  
  
He and Raistlin were twins, they had been close, were meant to be close, he'd been so sure Raistlin needed him.… But truth be told, he'd barely seen his brother since he'd returned home, Raistlin ignoring him or like tonight, avoiding his company and spending his time, where possible, with his lover.  
  
And it was lonely. Caramon knew that for certain. Tanis, Flint, and Tas had gone to a town market somewhere to sell the dwarf's metalwares so he'd spent most of his times with old school mates and Sturm.  
  
Sturm had not been in the least bit pleased when he was told Dalamar was living with them, Caramon recalled. He was another one who didn't trust the Dark elf, the only difference being that he didn't trust Raistlin either. Caramon knew the Solamnic had confronted Raistlin over his relationship. The glare he had got from the two was enough for him to back down.  
  
"I'd have had more luck talking to ice and steel," he'd said afterwards when Caramon had asked, "That's what their eyes resembled at any rate. Hard as steel and cold as ice."  
  
Although defensive about his brother, Caramon had had to agree with Sturm on his account of Dalamar; the Dark elf's eyes had more than once reminded him of frozen metal.  
  
Caramon sighed and looked around the clearing. No, matters in the family were not easy. Kit seemed to have had a disagreement with Raistlin and they weren't talking; what the argument was about Caramon didn't know, but he would bet his new sword that it had to do with Dalamar.  
  
Again him.  
  
Their lives had been so much calmer before the Dark elf arrived.

* * *

_**A few hours and several walkways later**_  
  
Raistlin stayed crouched on the walkway, only daring to breathe when he was sure his sister's footsteps had faded entirely.  
  
Dalamar was sitting beside him, still staring intensely into the darkness. "Lord Ariakas." He murmured.  
  
Raistlin snapped his head around, "Do you know him?"  
  
"No, but I heard talk of him when I was in Tarsis." Dalamar's face took on the hard, mask-like quality it always did when he spoke of his past. "A lot of people there spoke of joining his army too. Apparently he pays very well, and the people doing the talking in Tarsis...Well, suffice it to say that their support wasn't doing Ariakas any favours if that's who he has in his armies."  
  
"Is that all you know?"  
  
"Pretty much, he's gathering in Sanction for what I overheard, but no-one mentioned dragons."  
  
"Dragons..." Raistlin thought that over, and then shrugged. "Kender tales."  
  
"That's what they said about the Gods."  
  
The words had the same effect on the conversation as a stone dropped into a silent pool. Raistlin stared. "Do you believe that?"  
  
"I'd prefer to know more before I decide if it was just Kender tales."  
  
Raistlin nodded slowly, "We'd never get anything out of Kitiara and I doubt she knows any more than we do, but I could try and see if there are any books in Theobald's office on dragons."  
  
Dalamar nodded, he couldn't have gone himself as Theobald hated him, while the Dark elf simply saw Theobald as one would see a particularly obnoxious bit of wallpaper, unpleasant but not worth his attention. "Kitiara seems to be harbouring some misconceptions regarding you." He said.  
  
"Yes," Raistlin smiled, "I thought it was in my interest to keep that from her for the time being."  
  
"Wise," Dalamar said, "I'm not really surprised that she is joining Ariakas, I've heard some...interesting things about him from people who I would not trust as far as I could throw them."  
  
"Think of it another way," Raistlin sat up and stretched out his cramped legs, "This Ariakas is putting together an army up north, correct? When he decided to invade or do whatever he's planning; people will be hiring help for their armies and paying very well for it, help such as two battle mages, for example. We could take part in that."  
  
Dalamar's face broke into a broad smile, "I think it's a very good idea, but it will have to wait a few years, I'm no warrior mage, Raistlin."  
  
"Neither am I. Not yet anyway."  
  
Dalamar changed the subject, "Have you realized it's nearly morning?"  
  
This was true, the moon had set long ago and the sky lightening in the east; the pre-dawn chill made Raistlin shiver.  
  
Dalamar got up and pulled Raistlin to his feet, then slid an arm around the human's shoulder and pulled him up close against him, chin rubbing against cheekbone.  
  
"Not so cold now?" Dalamar's voice was practically a purr.  
  
Oh no, not so cold now, Raistlin thought, smiling, not with you nearly breathing in my ear, your oh-so warm body up against mine and your arms around my waist, no, not so cold at all.  
  
"I may not have the power yet, but I have you." Raistlin murmured.  
  
"And that will do, will it?" Dalamar smirked into auburn hair.  
  
"For the moment at any rate." Until he could have them both, that is. Make your cake and eat it why don't you...  
  
"Oh yes? Well if that's the case then I think-"  
  
What Dalamar thought was cut off by loud footfalls on the walkway, for one panicky moment Raistlin was sure it was Kitiara, then he realized who it was, and wished it had been his sister.  
  
"Raist, where have you be- Oh-"  
  
Caramon had not actually gone back to their house with Miranda but rather they had hidden in her father's storage shed. When they had finally finished, Caramon had headed home, when he'd arrived he'd been surprised to find that his brother wasn't there. After waiting for what felt like an age (in reality barely an hour) he'd gone out looking for Raistlin.  
  
And had eventually found him in the poorest part of Solace, with Dalamar, in a rather compromising position with the Dark elf. If glares were spells, Caramon would have been stunned, turned into a toad, and incinerated by the look his brother turned on him in that moment.  
  
"I was worried about you." He finished lamely.  
  
"Very nice." Raistlin's tone could have frozen Crystalmir Lake. "And now you know I'm fine you will go back to Miranda and leave us alone, yes?"  
  
"I-" Caramon, once again, wasn't sure what to say.  
  
"Let me rephrase that." Raistlin pulled away from Dalamar and scowled, "You will leave us alone right now."  
  
"But-"  
  
Dalamar, who had been watching the scene, torn between amusement and irritation, chose to step in. "Which part of 'leave us alone' don't you understand?"  
  
"Uh-" Caramon looked from one to the other, from ice to steel, then gave in. "I'll see you back home then." He muttered and stumbled away like a beaten dog.  
  
Raistlin inclined his head at Dalamar, "Thank you for that."  
  
One arm went around his shoulders and a warm chest pressed against his back. "He is very irritating. Why did you put up with him for so long?"  
  
"Who else was there? Kitiara?" Raistlin laughed at the very idea.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"Mind you, he's rarely been this...persistent in wanting attention, he must be feeling neglected."  
  
"Heh, does he really have nothing better to do than follow you about like a pet dog?"  
  
"That's really what I don't understand, he is one of the most popular boys in Solace, yet he constantly seeks me out as if I was his last hope for companionship."  
  
Dalamar smiled.

* * *

_Slightly smaller chapter this time, but hey, it's a chapter. We'll be skipping around time and perspective a bit in the next chapter and for most of the story as there is over a year to cover and I want to get as many points of view as possible until the point where Raistlin takes his test and where this sequel will finish.  
  
I own nothing but the warps to this storyline, everything else belongs to Margaret Weis apart from the song lyrics, which belong to Kovenant. _


	3. Interlude Drunkeness and Mindless Smut

THIS CHAPTER IS RATED 'R'. You have been duly warned.  
It is also unconnected to the main story so if you don't like reading about a human and an elf getting hot and sweaty please go elsewhere.  
  
Eh, 'tis fluffy, smutty and not at all Skull Bearer-like, this pairing tends to do that to me.  
If I owned this, 'Legends' would not be rated for kids and I would be getting hate mail from Fred Phelps and all those other morons.  
Dedicated to the GodHatesHomophobes site for great comics and even better humour and Minotaur, without whose sex tips this would have been impossible.  
  
Ice and Steel  
  
Interlude- Smut  
  
A friend in need's a friend indeed,  
A friend with weed is better,  
A friend with breast and all the rest,  
A friend who's dressed in leather,  
-Placebo, Pure Morning.  
  
Dalamar was laughing.  
  
The two of them had really drunk too much, Raistlin thought muzzily, tripping over a chair. Dalamar was hanging on to him and kissing him clumsily, while Raistlin was fumbling with the elf's clothing, stripping it off him with hands gone numb from too much alcohol.  
  
"Is Caramon here?" Dalamar had wrapped an arm around his neck and had spoken in a slurred faux-whisper.  
"Who cares?" Raistlin sounded no better, leaning forward to crush his lips against the Dark elf's and nearly falling over.  
  
They somehow got to their bedroom, having lost the majority- or in Dalamar's case, all- of their clothing along the way. Dalamar dropped back onto the bed, still laughing in the insane way one does when one is nearly stupefied with alcohol.  
Raistlin collapsed next to him, pulling off his underclothes before rolling on top of the naked elf.  
  
Hands wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair and pulling his head back, Dalamar's teeth biting into the soft skin of his throat.  
Growls and moans of pleasure as they ground their hips together, teeth clashing as their mouths met and were ravaged by the other.  
  
Raistlin's soft, drunken chuckle turned into a groan as Dalamar wrapped his legs around his waist and rocked against him.  
  
Oh yes this felt good.  
  
Heat grinding against heat, Dalamar's hair was damp with sweat as Raistlin ran his fingers through it, roughly kissing the elf's face; nipping and biting at a pointed ear.  
Dalamar's chest shook as he laughed again, before twisting around to first bite the human's neck then suck hard, leaving a mark that would be visible for several days.  
  
Raistlin sighed then reluctantly pulled away from that hot mouth and the pleasure-pain it was inflicting. He sat up, still astride Dalamar and reached over to the nightstand by their bed.  
  
Hands which were unable to reach his back gripped his thighs, clenching on muscle and bone for support.  
  
Sitting back on Dalamar's waist, Raistlin took one of Dalamar's hands off his thigh and uncapped the vial of oil he was holding, poured some of it's contents into the elf's hand. Then he slid back until he was resting against the backboard of the bed.  
  
Dalamar grinned, and sat up and moved over to sit in front of Raistlin. He ghosted his dry hand over Raistlin's face, and then kissed him with all the gentleness of their previous kisses- none.  
His other hand was doing incredibly effective things further down, fondling and preparing.  
Danger of asphyxiation drove Raistlin to break the kiss, gasping for air, eyes closed to better focus on the sensations Dalamar was eliciting from him.  
  
"Ah-ha...Stop." Raistlin gasped, if Dalamar continued he was going to come, and he didn't want that...at least not yet.  
Another warm kiss, though shorter that the last one. "As you wish." Dalamar's voice was thick with his own arousal.  
  
The Dark elf braced himself, hands on Raistlin's shoulders, sitting up, his legs around the human's, leaning back and lowering himself, groaning as tight muscle stretched under the intrusion.  
  
Raistlin sighed; head leant back against the backboard, wanting to relish the incredible feeling for as long as possible.  
  
Dalamar, however, had other ideas. His legs clenched around Raistlin's waist, hands cluching at his hair, yanking hard."Gods damn you Raistlin Majere, move!" The words were a barely distinguishable growl of desire.  
  
"As you wish." Even Raistlin's usually controlled voice was strained. He pushed Dalamar back onto the bed and bent over him, starting to thrust inside him.  
The Dark elf gave an incoherent moan of pleasure, hands gripping Raistlin's back, nails all but drawing blood.  
  
"Oh yes- harder! I-" Dalamar's voice broke of and he bucked up gasping. In his eyes, sparks flew. "Ah yes! There! Oh yes-" The train of words trailed into an intelligible snarl, body twisting with pleasure.  
  
"Oh yes!"  
  
Oh yes, heat and friction and oh gods this felt so so incredibly good oh yes yes Dalamar this is wonderful you feel so good-  
  
Raistlin thrust in one final time, burying himself up to the hilt in the Dark elf's flesh, then he came hard inside him, body jerking against Dalamar's. Judging by the howl and motion, Dalamar had reached completion too.  
  
Raistlin gasped, his head was lying on Dalamar's sweat-soaked chest and he was trying to get his breathing back to normal. One of Dalamar's hands was still tangled in his hair, he too appeared to be winded.  
Arms wrapped around his neck and held him close. Raistlin jerked in pain as Dalamar ran a hand down his back.  
"Ak, that hurt." His voice sounded odd even by his own ears.  
"Sorry, I must have scratched you quite badly." Well, he wasn't the only one sounding strange.  
  
He slid off Dalamar and curled up on his side around the Dark elf. Dalamar reached over and pressed a kiss against his temple, then his forehead, then his cheek and finally his lips.  
"Lovely." He murmured.  
"Wasn't it just?" Raistlin smirked.  
"You."  
"Yes, and you."  
"Sleep well, Raistlin."  
"And you."  
  
It was only when Dalamar was asleep and he himself was drifting off, that it occurred to Raistlin that his brother, who he now remembered was off meeting Tanis Half-Elven, would think when he saw the clothes he and Dalamar had left strewn hap-hazardly about the house.  
Smiling, Raistlin turned over and nuzzled Dalamar's black hair. That, he told himself, was a matter for tomorrow.  
  
Skull Bearer. 


	4. Friends and Trouble

_Dalamar Nightson- Your health teacher? I won't ask but you have my condolences. Hope you like this chapter, new perception._

_Elly Stormrage- Here you go._

_Showing the newest developments in Solace through the eyes of Tanis Half-Elven. Featuring Depressed!Caramon, Stunned!Tanis, Hyper!Tasslehoff, Enraged!Flint and a plan that can only lead to disaster. Mild comic relief and an introduction to a main plot in the story.  
Sorry if I get characterisations wrong, I've hated Tanis ever since he threatened to wring Raistlin's neck in the Legends trilogy._

_As always, I own nothing but the wefts and warps I have built into the original storyline, everything else belongs to Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman except for the lyrics, which belong to Kovenant._

_And as always, thanks and praises be to Kady Mae for beta-ing this._

**Friends and Trouble**

_I can't come down when your around  
I lose control and hit the ground  
So everything must change  
and all remains the same  
This is a stillborn universe  
-Kovenant, Stillborn Universe._

Caramon looked miserable, Tanis thought, the big man was clearly glad to see them but it was easy to see that something was bothering him.

"Hey Caramon! Oh, what's the matter? You don't look so good." Tasslehoff chirped up. Typical Kender.

"Oh, well, it's nothing really." As a lie, it was pathetic.

"You can tell us." Tas promised, "I won't tell anyone, honest Caramon! Well, I'll tell Flint of course, but he's my friend! Oh, and you Tanis; I wouldn't not tell you that, and anyway you'll hear it what he tells me, and Strum; but he's your friend too Caramon! And Raistlin"  
At the mention of his twin's name, Caramon sighed.

_"- and Otik; but he always hears all the gossip anyway, and the nice guard who's always offering me a room in the guardhouse; funny, I thought he'd worked out by now I'm living with Flint-"_

"Has this something to do with Raistlin?" Tanis asked under the Kender's inane babbling.

"Yeah."

_"-and that girl you like; what's-her-name, she'd be worried about you, and"  
"Will you shut up, you doorknob!"_

"What's he done now?" Sometimes Tanis had no idea why Caramon put up with his irritable brother.

_"But I was just"  
"Can't you just keep your mouth shut?"_

"Oh nothing," Caramon looked even more despondent that ever. "I just practically don't see him anymore."

Tanis blinked, "You don't see him?" He'd always thought Raistlin as being very much dependent on Caramon. Behind him, Flint and Tasslehoff stopped their argument to listen.

"No." The big man kicked moodily at an exposed tree root.

"Why?" Tanis coaxed, this was a sore point, he could tell.

"Because he, um, well, he found someone."

"Oh." Tanis was stunned. "What, romantically?" This was not what he'd expected. Raistlin? In love? Krynn had clearly stopped turning.

"Yeah." Caramon looked embarrassed and reddened.

"Oh." Tanis repeated, still in shock.

"Oh wow!" Tasslehoff grinned. "That's great! Who is it? Is it someone we know?"

He shook his head. "No, it's some Dark elf he met a few months ago, a black robe called Dalamar."

"Wow!" Tasslehoff all but bounced in excitement, "I've never even seen a Dark elf before, even though I've been to loads of places. This is so great! Is he living with you? When's the marriage?"

Flint clamped his hand over the Kender's mouth, clearly now the only possible way to keep Tas quiet. "Can't you see he's upset?" The dwarf snarled.

"Is he?" Tas pulled Flint's hand away from his mouth, still oblivious with excitement. "Why? I'd have thought it'd be great, you know Caramon, you're always going on about how you want Raist to be happy, so what's the matter?"

"You're an idiot." Flint spoke with great dignity, an effect put off by his red face.

"A Dark elf?" Tanis felt himself lagging behind in this conversation. Talk about a match made in the Abyss...

"Dalamar, yeah. I don't know why Raist trusts him."

Birds of a feather then, "Dalamar?"

"You've heard of him?" Caramon looked surprised.

"No, but I, um, I never thought your brother went that way for, um, companionship." Tanis felt his cheeks hot up.

Caramon shrugged, "He does now."

"Oh." The world has officially gone insane.

"But why're you upset?" Tasslehoff chirped again. "If he's happy, why aren't you? You're always saying-"

"Because that elf's using him!" The floodgates were broken, Caramon was shouting. "I'm sure that's it! I don't trust him at all, but Raist won't believe me, love-blind for Dalamar, I suppose! I'm really worried but he won't listen-"

This day keeps on getting weirder. I've never seen Caramon shout before.

"-And I don't see him anymore!" Caramon clenched his fist angrily, "It's not meant to be like that! We're twins! We're meant to stay together! Raistlin's always needed my help, he'll get hurt if I'm not there to help him-"

Clearly Raistlin doesn't think so. Tanis thought.

"- He doesn't want me around, he doesn't even want to see me! I miss him and I'm really scared for him! I just know he's going to get badly hurt-" Caramon seemed to be desperate to get everything off his chest, to unburden himself to someone that could help.

"Calm down Caramon." Tanis spoke as soothingly as he could.

Caramon rubbed one hand over his face and gave a small, broken sigh. "I just want things to go back to the way they were," No anger now, all his previous energy gone, Caramon just looked defeated. "Just back to normal. Me and Raist, he can't manage without me."

Yet he seems to be doing very well. Tanis wondered if he'd been wrong in believing Raistlin to be the dependant one, Caramon was the one having a nervous breakdown, not him.  
Tanis sighed, he had to say something to comfort the big man but there really wasn't anything to be done. Best just to put it down as it was and help Caramon come to terms with the changes.

"If your brother doesn't want you around, Caramon, there's nothing you can do about it-"

"But you will, won't you?" The human's face held a looked of hopeful desperation. "Raist's going to get hurt by that Dark elf, we have to do something to help him!"

Tanis had a very bad feeling about where this was heading. If Caramon was asking for them to break up his twin's relationship, then it was the worst idea Tanis could imagine. His thoughts drifted to his own lover, Kitiara, how would he feel if someone tried to keep him away from her permanently?

He wouldn't like it at all.

Tanis was just about to politely refuse Caramon's plea, tell him that they really had no place in meddling with Raistlin's life, telling him what to do or who to love, not to mention that he would never believe them or care what they thought. What Caramon should do is try and accept what was happening and let Raistlin pay for his own mistakes.

He would have said all this, only he was beaten to it.

"Sure Caramon." Tasslehoff was clearly trying to look as if heappreciated the gravity of his friend's situation. "Raist would be so pleased knowing we stopped him getting hurt! He's my friend too and I stand up for my friends." If the Kender hadn't been bouncing around as he usually did at the promise of excitement, the speech would have seemed much more poignant. "Come on Flint! Didn't you say that dwarves always look out for their kin? And Caramon's almost kin, isn't he? And Tanis, you'll help won't you? Caramon and Raist are our friends, you said you'd always help a friend."

Flint growled, angry at having his own words thrown back at him.  
"Fine! I don't like the sound of this Dalamar either, one thing you can trust even less than an elf is a Dark elf."

Tanis sighed, "I'll help," he said quietly, "but I want all of you to know that I think this is not a good idea at all. Raistlin is not going to like this and I have a very bad feeling about this, Caramon, I just want you to know that."

There was a brief pause while two fundamental rules of Caramon's universe fought it out, love for his brother combating his absolute trust in Tanis.  
Trust lost.

"This is a good idea Tanis." He insisted. "Raistlin needs us."

"But what are we meant to do?" Tanis demanded. "Just go up to Raistlin and tell him of our suspicions?"

"Of course not." Flint snorted and the pointlessness of that idea.

"No, I've already tried." Caramon sighed. "I thought you might have some ideas."

Resigning himself to playing a part in this insane and probably disastrous drama, Tanis tried to think.

"Well," He said, "You say Raistlin doesn't believe us, right?"

Caramon nodded.

"Then what we need is proof we can show to Raistlin that Dalamar has dishonest intentions. No one can cover their tracks perfectly, even a Dark elf, so we'll be bound to find something if we look hard enough."

"That's a good idea." Caramon looked relieved. "What should we look for?"

"Anything, everything we can find out about Dalamar to show Raistlin that he's either manipulating him, untrustworthy or both." It wasn't a brilliant plan by any means, but it was the best he could come up with.

The other three nodded, Tasslehoff excited, Caramon relieved and Flint determined.

So, Tanis thought, looking over his friends and reviewing his plans, I'm trying to save someone I don't like, from someone I don't know, with a plan I don't trust.

_Oh dear, does anyone else feel that 'disaster waiting to happen' sensation? More soon. Please review, I need reviews._

_Skull Bearer_


	5. Summer days and Travels

_Elly Stormrage- Cheers, my first try at writing smut that wasn't flame fishing.  
__Robin- Thanks._

_Dalamar Nightson- I had to reformat a chapter as it was hard to read, thanks for the beta work._

_Dedicated to Nemedaire, without who's excellent review and sequel suggestions I couldn't have broken through the block. Also to my new beta, Dalamar Nightson._

Ice and Steel

Chapter 4- Summer days and Travels

_Yesterday was a million years ago  
In all my past lives I played an asshole  
Now I found you, it's almost too late,  
And this Earth seems obliviating.  
-Marilyn Manson, Last Day on Earth._

The rest of that long summer passed peacefully, but not without interest.

Caramon and Raistlin's Day of Life Gift, a day spent in the Inn, where Flint drank Caramon, Tanis and Kitiara under the table and the two mages sat back in a corner sometimes laughing, sometimes talking quietly together, and sometimes just not speaking. Dalamar's gift, an enchanted gold and ruby ring, glimmered on Raistlin's hand.

Tanis and Flint had stayed in Solace instead of leaving, due to the latter being temporarily crippled with lumbago. As Flint was not a pleasent patient, this kept Raistlin occupied for the better part of a month.

Dalamar's own Day of Life Gift came a month after Raistlin's. They'd spent the day by the shore of Crystalmir lake, away from Caramon and his friends (who had become annoyingly prying during the last few months.  
The Dark elf had been delighted by Raistlin's gift; a new set of fine black robes, as his own were in a very sorry state by now.

Yes, the summer had been very enjoyable for both of them, but in later years they rarely thought of it, for the memories that autumn brought stood out in their minds like a sheet of flame.

It had been Dalamar who suggested they go with Tanis to Haven, where he and Flint were going for the Harvest Home festival. Dalamar had heard Raistlin's tutor talk about a mageware shop in the lordcity.  
If they wanted to become war mages, they needed spells and since they couldn't go to Wayreth to browse the library there yet, where better to buy spells than a mageware shop?

Raistlin had readily agreed, although he'd been rather reluctant to go as a group after he'd heard that Caramon would be travelling with them.

The atmosphere between the twins had cooled dramaticly in the last few months. Raistlin tolerated his brother when they had to be together and avoided him like the plague when they didn't.

But, as Dalamar pointed out however, there would most likely be footpads and robbers on the road, and they would post less of a target as a group that if the two of them went alone.  
Eventually Raistlin had agreed.

The journey itself was uneventful, Raistlin rode in the wagon carrying Flint's wares with Tanis; Caramon, Strum, Tasslehoff and Dalamar walked while Flint sat in the back of the full wagon. Kitiara had decided to come too and alternated between sitting in the wagon and walking.  
It was while Kit was sitting with Tanis that the first hint of the incoming disaster met them.

A group of about twenty people, all dressed in blue robes, was advancing slowly down the middle of the road.  
The effect, whether intentional or not, was to slow all the travellers to a near standstill. From his higher view point Raistlin could see some foot travellers attempt to walk around the slow moving column, only to leap back away from them.

"What's this? What's going on?" Flint had fallen asleep in the wagon and the sudden stop had awakened him.

"Those priests up ahead," Tanis said, "they won't move off the road and no one can get around them."

Dalamar glanced at Raistlin and lifted an eyebrow, 'priests?' he mouthed. Raistlin shrugged, just as puzzled.

The priest were not only slow moving, the were also apparently deaf. The driver of the lead wagon was calling to the to move to the side of the road and the were ignoring him utterly.

"This is ridiculous." Kitiara snapped, "I'll go talk to them"  
She stalked off, Tasslehoff on her heels.

"No, Tas, Kit! Wait-Blast!" Tanis swore and leaped off the cart, leaving Raistlin at the reigns.

Raistlin took hold of them and started down at the leather uncertainly; he had no idea how to drive a wagon.  
Dalamar caught Raistlin's slightly paniced expression and caught hold of the horse's bridle to stop it.

A cry from up ahead drew all their attention. Tasslehoff had reached the priests, stepped forward to talk, then for some reason had seen fit to jump headlong into a hedge.  
Judging by the yelps, it had thorns.

By the time Tanis, Kit and Caramon had untagled the kender and his pouches from the hedgerow, they'd learned that the reason for the kender's behaviour was that all the priests, every one, was carrying a venomous snake.  
A peddler beside them explained that these were priest of Belzor, and the snake was his holy symbol.  
"Snake charmers." Dalamar had smiled at Raistlin. "Not real magic"  
Belzor, the peddler continued, was a god that didn't tolerate disrespect, and neither, he added pointedly, did his priests; who were rumoured to preform miracles.

"Belzor." Raistlin spoke under his breath, the name sounded familiar but he couldn't remember running across it in any of his texts on the gods.  
When it came to him, he was amazed he'd forgotten it even for a moment.

When Raistlin was much younger, a woman had come to Solace, a widow Judith. She had done odd jobs about the town, among those helping Raistlin's own mother, an untrained seer lost in her own mind. She'd claimed to do the work out of a willingness to aid, but had also spent the time spreading word of a new faith, that of Belzor.

When Raistlin's father had been fataly wounded, she had claimed Belzor would save him.  
When his father died, she had heaped blame for the failure on the young mage, denouncing him as a practicer of the demon arts and calling on the town to cast him out.

The town hadn't, rather demanding that if Judith was going to treat one of theirs like that, then perhaps she'd better leave.  
She had, and with the loss of her carer and her husband, Raistlin's mother had fallen into a final trance and had starved to death.

Raistlin still blamed Judith for the loss.

He told Dalamar the tale when they had stopped for the night. The Dark elf had been unusally pensive, staying silent for a while before asking Raistlin if he had any spare clothes other than his robes.  
What Raistlin answered that he had, Dalamar asked to borrow a set of them.  
"Why"  
"Because," Dalamar said, smiling grimly, "If they can denounce a White robed child as a demonologist, then what do you think they'll do to a Dark elven Black robe?"

_Those who have read the Soulforge will know what's coming, those who don't...will find out._

Skull Bearer.


	6. Haven and Plotters

_Thank you Dalamar Nightson for both beta-ing and reviewing this._

_Merry Christmas to everyone._

**Ice and Steel chapter 5**

Haven and Plotters

_We are trembling in our crutches  
High and dead our skin is glass  
I'm so empty here without  
I crack and split my xerox hands  
-Marilyn Manson, Last Day on Earth._

The next day was quiet; the priests were nowhere in sight so traffic had resumed as normal.

They passed noble families, merchants and more. They temporarily lost Tasslehoff when the wagon passed a gaggle of kender. He'd leaped off the cart and they'd left him behind as the kender tried to work out if Tas was any relation of theirs. He wasn't back until nightfall.

At midday the next day the party arrived at Haven.

Despite the grand title of lordcity, Haven was little more that a large town surrounded by a farming community. It's defences consisted of a few guards (one of which came to tell Tasslehoff to save them trouble and lock himself in their cells at once, a request which was politly refused) and a thick wooden palisade rather than the stone wall and guardtowers of true lordcities.

Dalamar had left off his robes and was dressed in Raistlin's clothes. They were slightly small for him and he looked rather odd in breeches and a shirt. He'd kept his battered old cloak though, and wore the hood pulled up over his head, casting his face in shadow.  
He'd tried to convince Raistlin to do the same, but the younger mage had refused, reasoning that while Dalamar would not be welcomed, the Belzorites would need a very good excuse to attack a human white robe.  
The Dark elf had shrugged, Raistlin was right in this case.

When Raistlin had asked why Dalamar was so adament about hiding his face, the responce had been curt, "Because more that a few of those selling here are from Tarsis"  
Raistlin couldn't argue with that reasoning, and completely missed Tanis's pointed look at Caramon.

Dalamar's decision to remove his robe was proven all too correct when, barely into Haven, the group was approached by a Belzorite priest, who wanted to speak with Raistlin.  
"Are you a wielder of magic, brother?" The man asked.  
"A novice mage, sir, I have yet to take the test"  
"You are very young, brother." The man said earnestly, "Are you aware of the evil in which you dabble- probably all unknowingly, I am sure"  
Raistlin had a sudden image of himself and Dalamar in situation and had to fight to hide his smile. "Evil? No, sir. I have no intention of doing evil. What do you mean?"

The man then spouted out a rush of rhetoric cursing magic as the root of evil and calling Raistlin to come and hear them outside the temple of Belzor, for, the man suddenly looked downcast here, Raistlin would not be allowed in until he renounced his 'foul ways.  
Raislin pretended to be interested in the man's speech and willing to give up the magic if it was as foul as he said it was.  
Dalamar turned his head at this point, smile hidden from the priest by the cowl of his cloak. "I am no white robed mage, priest, may I enter"  
"But of course brother." The priest beamed, "the rest of you welcome to witness the miracles preformed there. Priestess Judith will be summoning Belzor to appear among us this very night. And she will be speakin to the spirits of those who have passed over."

When he was gone, Raistlin leaned over to Dalamar and spoke softly; "You've sworn yourself to Nuitari, although you haven't renounced him directly, nice bit of manovering by the way, but by now not wearing his robes, don't you think it's going against your vows"  
Dalamar sighed, "Probably, but I think Nuitari would rather have a worshipper in disguise than a dead worshipper"  
"Could it come to that?" A bolt of ice shot up his spine.  
"Look how they treated you, you! A white robe protected by the law and still they denounce you in public. Politely yes, but they still did it. Should I wear my robes, then you may as well try to ask them to call up my spirit in their ceremony!"

In the end, Raistlin desided to follow Dalamar's example and disguise himself for the ceremony.  
Caramon immediatly said he would come, of course.  
Kitiara and Tanis also agreed to attend.  
Tasslehoff, to nobody's surprise jumped at the idea, Raistlin imagined the kender running around the temple, 'borrowing' all the relics he could find and knocking over priests.  
Flint refused, partly because he said the whole idea was daft, partly because Tas was going and partly because he needed- with a hard look at Tanis and Caramon- to take care of something he promised some friends.  
Dalamar decided against the idea in the end, much to Raistlin's disappointment, he really didn't want to push his luck.

Still there was still a good few hours until the ceremony, so Dalamar and Raistlin took the opportunity to find the mageware shop they'd heard about. They left the group on Herbalist Street with money and instructions on how to find Flint's stall at the fairground, before strolling together, hand in hand, down the street.

After a quick stop at one of the heralist shops for plants Raistlin couldn't grow at home, the two wandered down the road towards the end of the street where the mageware stop was located.  
Once they'd arrived, however, Raistlin wondered if he'd misunderstood the instructions, because the house in front of them looked nothing like the shops they'd passed.  
The windows and doors were shut and barred. No sign swung outside.

The two mages glanced at each other, then shrugged. Raistlin knocked.

Things were worse in Haven than Raistlin had first thought. Lemuel, the keeper of the mageware shop, had been repeatedly threatened and was preparing to leave Haven for another town, preferable not one where people wanted him dead.  
As Lemuel was a harmless herblist who hadn't even taken the Test, this seemed incredible to Raistlin. Incredible, and worrying. He wondered if he should take Dalamar's advice and disguise himself for the rest of his visit.

At any rate, their travels had not been in vain. Lemuel's father had been an archmage of considerable power, a talent not shared by his son, and the attic was cluttered with spellbooks and books on tactics. Better still, Lemuel, who had no use for the books, was all too happy to sell them to the two mages, much to their delight.

Tanis's POV

The fairground was a scene of utter chaos as dozens of merchants, peddlers and travelling shopkeepers hurried to set their stalls and wares up in time for the offical opening of the market tomorrow.

Tanis and Caramon had left Flint and Kitiara to get the stall ready, he'd tried to leave Tas, but the kender had come anyway.

Tanis sighed, he hated everything to do with this little plot, but he had given his word to Caramon.  
Dalamar clearly had hidden past in Tarsis, and Tanis had no doubt that if the Dark elf was afraid he'd be recognised by simple merchants, then there was a good chance the three of them could find it out by asking them.

Having Tasslehoff along actually proved to be a good thing, while it would have taken a long time to pick through the mess of tents, half erected stall and crates of merchandise, the presence of a kender meant that people were all too willing to move out of their way in case Tas started 'borrowing' again.

Finding a storekeep from Tarsis was harder, but after a few queries to other merchants they were directed to a plump, balding man in brightly coloured clothing with a stall of the far side of the square.

The man was in the middle of unloading bales of cloth. When they arrived he wheezed, mopped his bald patch with a hankerchief and straightened.  
"If you're from the temple I'm not interested. I don't hold with Gods and that's final!" He snapped.

"We're not from the temple." Tanis said, "We're selling like you are"  
This was a good gambit, the solidarity between the sellers in Haven was strong.

It worked, the man smiled.  
"What can I help you with?" He asked, holding out a sweaty hand. "My name's Hadley."

"Are you from Tarsis?"

"Yes, what-" The man began but was inturrupted.

"Oh wow!" Tasslehoff grinned, "I'd love to go to Tarsis, I've seen on the maps I've got, but that's not the same as actually being there, is it?"

"Shut up Tasslehoff." Tanis sighed wearily. "We need to ask you about someone who was in Tarsis until a few months ago."

"I'll tell you if I know him, but you"-this addressed to Tasslehoff-" keep away from my stock, d'you hear?"

"A Dark elf." Caramon supplied, "Called Dalamar."

Hadley's attention, which had up until this point been fixed on the kender, focused fully on Caramon. "Dalamar? Dark elf? Black robes, quite tall?"

"That's him, do you know him?"

Hadley gave a slight leer, "Oh, I know of him..."

_This is so getting nasty..._

_Next- Troubles in Haven come to a head._


	7. Exposition and Execution

_Yenna- -**bows**- Your wish is my command, keep wishing and there will be more chapters.  
Hipa- Thank you, it's a great compliment to know that the characters are realistic._

_Dalamar Nightson- Thanks a million for the beta work, it helped me iron out some very embarrasing mistakes._

**Exposition and Execution**

_I know it's the last day on Earth,  
We'll be together as the planet dies.  
-Marilyn Manson, Last Day on Earth._

By the time they arrived at the fairground, it was dark and the temple ceremony would be beginning soon.  
Dalamar was staying behind, but as the elf was wearing his clothes, Raistlin had to borrow some from Tanis. They were to big, but they would work; nobody would recognise him.

Sturm had gone ahead and Kitiara had sent Tanis off to find Tasslehoff (who apparently ending up in jail already) so it was just Caramon, Kit and himself who ended up making their way to the ugly building which served the Belzorites as a temple.

Raistlin's doubts in the truth of the religion was almost immediately confirmed as they reached the entrance to the temple, large braziers had been set outside and the scent of the smoke had the young mage covering his mouth with his sleeve.  
"Cover your nose and mouth! Quickly!" He hissed. "Don't breath the smoke." The warning came too late for Caramon, who'd taken a breath full of it. The large man staggered as if drunk, nearly knocking Kitiara over. She grabbed her brother and hauled him into the temple, Raistlin following.  
"They were burning poppy seeds." Raistlin explained, "It causes a feeling of euphoria. Odd that the priests would want their congregation in such a state of befuddlement."

The ceremony, when it began, did little to change his suspicions. High Priestess Judith had appeared, looking much as Raistlin remembered her, and 'summoned' Belzor. A trick, Raistlin was sure, done by magic rather than clerical power.

Members of the congregation were then called up, those who had asked to speak to dead friends or family. As each of them had been interrogated beforehand and the 'dead' spoke through the high priestess, not to mention that every one of the dead asked their relations to give money to the temple, Raistlin was convinced the whole thing was a sham.

It was the last person to be called up, though, who convinced Raistlin he had to act, a young mother who had lost her child. A child, Judith told her, damned to hell for her elven blood.

He looked back at Judith who'd just demanded that, in return for drawing the child's soul out of hell, the woman give all her lands and possessions to the temple.

When the woman tried to protest, the crowd hissed, and whispered insults at the her.

Raistlin felt a sting of pain as his nails bit into his palms. Anger burnt inside his soul, anger at the strong for taking such advantage of the weak. Gods knew he understood what that felt like.

The ceremony was over and the group was returning to the fairground. Dalamar had been waiting for them a little way from the temple, Raistlin was explaining the events to the Dark elf when they crossed the young woman who had lost her child. She looked utterly devastated. The crowd had cursed and derided her since the ceremony had broken up.  
Raistlin made his mind up at that moment and stepped over to her, Dalamar a step behind.

"Leave me alone!" She pleaded. "I beg of you. I have suffered enough."

"I am not one of your tormentors, madam." Raistlin said quietly. "Belzor is a fraud, a sham. Your child is at peace. She sleeps soundly, as though you had rocked her to sleep yourself."

" I did rock her." The woman's eyes had filled with tears. "I held her, and at the end she was at peace, as you have said. 'I feel better now, Mama,' she told me, and she closed her eyes. I want to believe you! But how can I? What proof can you give me?"

"Come back to the temple tomorrow night."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

When they arrived at the fairground Dalamar grabbed Raistlin's sleeve and dragged him behind a tree away from the stalls. "What was that about?" He hissed, furious, "You are going to risk your life in that madhouse for that woman. Risk. Your. Life. Whatever you're planning Raistlin, you'd better drop it pretty quicky."

"You don't even know what I'm planning." Raistlin snarled back, angered by Dalamar's derision.

"Does it even matter? These priests aren't ones to suffer being shown up, you heard what they threatened to do to Lemuel, just for being in the same town as them! Play them up and I don't want to think what they'd do."

Raistlin sighed, bit back a sarcastic retort and explained his plan to Dalamar.

When he'd finished, Dalamar was staring at him as if he'd gone mad.  
"You've gone crazy, Raistlin. There are a thousand things that can go wrong with that plan, you've never cast that spell before, you're relying on a kender and most of all even if it does work you've revealed yourself as a mage and we will both be targets."

"Is that all you care about?" Raistlin spat, "Is that why you're trying to dissuade me? Because you're too afraid of being seen as what you are?"

"No." Dalamar's voice was rigid. "Because I'm scared of losing the only person who's ever meant anything to me."

Raistlin couldn't answer that, and sighed, anger draining out at those words. "Dalamar, it's not that much of a risk, the worse that can happen is that I'd humiliated." Which would be bad enough.

The Dark elf ran a hand over his face with a sigh, "It is a risk, a risk that isn't worth taking for the comfort of one woman."

"It's not just the woman. What if I succeed? Judith is most certainly a renegade mage, and we-WE- have made pacts with the Gods of Magic to work for the magic, and this is an excellent time to do so."

Dalamar didn't answer and Raistlin knew he'd won the argument.

----------------------------Next day----------------------------------

The temple of Belzor was full, even more full than the previous night. The promise of such a crowd was daunting, but after his argument with Dalamar, Raistlin could hardly change his mind.  
It took a while to get everyone into position, Sturm standing by the back wall, holding Tasslehoff, his brother and friends beside his to avoid him being interrupted while casting. Dalamar stood by the right hand wall; he'd insisted on coming, wanting to be there to get Raistlin out if- or when- anything went wrong.

The spell he was going to cast was far beyond his skill as a mage, but even the least novice could cast from a scroll.  
He just hoped to the Gods everything would work.  
Raistlin shivered; he felt very cold, sick to the stomach with stage fright.

He had waited until Judith was preparing to cast her spell to 'summon' Belzor' then unrolled his scroll, the flaming letters on the parchment gave him strength and he stood and began his speech, the acoustics of the room amplifying his words.  
He denounced Judith and Belzor, resolve only faltering when the priestess recognized him. Pulling himself together he continued.

Raistlin had had no need for the scroll, the words of the spell had burnt themselves into his mind.

He could have cast the spell on himself, it would have proved his point perfectly.  
He could have cast it on Caramon, imposing as his twin was, it would have worked well.  
He could have cast it on Dalamar, the Dark elf was frightening enough.

But Raistlin had needed to do more than to prove his point than evoke fear from his onlookers, he needed to disprove Belzor utterly, and only one emotion could do this.

Ridicule.

He cast the spell on Tasslehoff.

Suddenly, there was a giant kender walking down the isle of the temple.

Silence. Then someone had laughed, this was picked up by more and more of the congregation until the whole lot of them were laughing and mocking, shoving to get a better look. This then turned into a riot as more and more people joined the fray The town guard ran in, and all hell broke loose.

Raistlin had shoved himself clear of the bedlam and run after Judith, who'd disappeared. Caramon had been caught up in the fight, Dalamar was lost on the other side of the rabble, and Kitiara had vanished, so he was on his own

Things went downhill rapidly from there. Raistlin had followed the priestess down a passageway behind a statue of Belzor and into a rich set of rooms clearly used as living quarters for the priests. They were empty save a young cleric.  
A loud scream had cut through any demands he could have made and he ran towards the source of the noise.

The room had clearly used as a restroom after the priestess' performances, with wine and food on a fine wooden table.  
Judith had been lying on the floor, her throat had been slashed with such ferocity that her head was nearly severed from her body.  
And beside her lay a very familiar knife.  
His sister's.

He'd just picked it up and prepared to run when the guards came in.

There had been no chance to defend himself, he'd been caught at the scene of the murder with the knife still clutched in his hand. He'd been dragged to the prison to await trial and (probable) hanging.

To Raistlin, everything was unreal. The exhaustion of casting the spell combined with shock had done in his system, he passed out on the cold floor of the cell.

He was woken, seemingly moments later, by a loud commotion in the prison. Crashing of boots on the cobbles, voices raised and angry, the clash and rattle of cell bars, then hands roughly grabbing him, dragging him upright.

The world spun; the red-gold of torches, blue of robes, white and orange of flame edged faces blurred into a whirlpool of colour. Fingers clutching his arms and shoulders hard enough to hurt. Then he was pulled out of the jail and into the street, shrieks and yells melting into a horrid, unholy medley of abyssal triumph.

Raistlin couldn't think, couldn't fight, couldn't even stand as his hands were bound behind his back. Someone behind him was shouting above the din...Something about an execution, they were going to kill someone..._him_.

The young mage started dragging at his bonds in a futile attempt to free himself. Someone swung at him and Raistlin staggered, stars dancing in front of his eyes and darkness beckoning again.

His captors started a slow chant to Belzor as they moved towards their squatting temple, joined by hangers on who had come to see what all the fuss was about. Mocking yells and black chants melted into each other until the sounds echoing in Raistlin's head seemed born of the very hell they wished to send him to.

Where was Dalamar? Was he simply going to leave him to his death? Has he decided that a rescue was hopeless and decided to save his own skin? That he was, as Raistlin had accused him, too afraid to be seen for what he was to attempt to save his lover?  
In his groggy, barely-conscious state it made more sense than ever.

They had arrived at the temple, it's ugly square walls all the more hideous in the flickering torches.

They had arrived at the pyre.

_Never underestimate the stupidity of people in big groups..._

_Skull Bearer._


	8. Mayhem and Exhaustion

_Dalamar Nightson: Sorry I couldn't send this to you for beta-ing, but myyahoo mailwas down so I had to do the best I could with a spellcheck and your old prompts._

_hipa: Thanks._

_Elly Stromrage: blinks uh...thanks for the 'blood'._

**_Unbeta'd_**

_I copied most of the Kitiara-Caramon interaction directly from 'The Soulforge', it's my favorite part of the book and I know I couldn't write better and to summarize it would be unthinkable.  
I own nobody and nothing._

**Ice and Steel**

Mayhem and Exhaustion

_I know it's the last day on Earth,  
We'll never say goodbye.  
-Last day on Earth, Marilyn Manson._

If it hadn't been for Caramon, that would probably have been it for Raistlin. The others had been thrown out of the temple shortly after the riot and made their way back to the fairgrounds.

Even Dalamar, although Tanis had some trouble convincing him.

Caramon, though, was even more stubborn than the Dark elf. He'd lagged behind and mooched around the temple grounds waiting for his brother to come out.

When he finally saw Raistlin, his twin was being dragged out of the temple by the Haven guard. They were followed by a gaggle of townsfolk, all whispering about how the mage had been caught in the very act of killing Judith, there would be a trial the next morning and no doubt a hanging.

One of the guardsmen, one close to Caramon, was talking and pointing at a bloodstained knife he held in his hands.  
Kit's knife.  
The murder weapon.

Caramon stared, stunned, as the procession rounded the corner towards the guardhouse. He then took to his heels, running as fast as he could for the fairgrounds.  
When he blundered in their tent, sweating and out of breath, he never saw the dark shadow that flitted after him and crouched outside the tent.

Caramon found Kitiara sitting there pulling her boots off..

It didn't take long for Caramon to splutter out his story; Raistlin's capture, the murder, tomorrow's trial, Kit's knife, everything.

Kitiara's face seemed a mask. "There are a lot of knives in this world."

"Not many with Flint's mark, or the braided leather on the hilt. Kit, I saw you warp it yourself! It was your knife, I know it." Caramon was getting angry at the waste of time.

"Does Raistlin know? Never mind, they wouldn't believe him anyway."

"Then you're going to say something. You killed her, didn't you, Kit?"

His sister shrugged, red moonlight reflected in her uncaring eyes.

"Then I'm going to tell them Kit. I'm going to tell them the truth."

Kitiara caught his sleeve as he turned to leave, "Caramon, wait! There's something you have to consider. Something you haven't thought about."

"Well, what's that?" Caramon scowled.

Kitiara lowered her voice, "Did you know Raistlin could do magic like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like the spell he cast tonight. It was a powerful spell Caramon. I know, I've been around magic users some, and what I've seen...Well, never mind what I've seen, but trust me on this. What Raistlin did he shouldn't have been able to do. Not as young as he is."

"He's good at magic," Caramon said off-handedly.

Kitiara snarled "Are you part gully dwarf to be so thick headed? Can't you understand? You say Raistlin's good at magic, I say he's too good at magic. I hadn't realized it until tonight. I though he was just playing at being a wizard. How could I know he was this powerful? I didn't expect-"

"What are you saying Kitiara?" Caramon said impatiently.

"Let them have him, Caramon," Kit's voice was low and deadly, her eyes gleaming. "Let them hang him! Raistlin is dangerous. He's like one of those vipers. As long as he's charmed, he'll be nice. But if you cross him...Don't go back to the prison, Caramon. Just go to bed. In the morning, if someone asks you about the knife, say it was his."

"You want me...to let Raistlin...die?" Caramon choked hoarsely.

"Just let whatever's going to happen, happen." She said soothingly, "It will be for"  
A hand snagged Kitiara's shoulder and she turned impatiently to see who it was.

She never even saw Dalamar's fist coming.

Caramon blinked. The Dark elf had somehow materialized behind Kit and hit her so hard he'd knocked her out. The Black robe was trembling with fury.  
"You." He snarled at Caramon, "Get the half elf, the knight, the dwarf and the kender, we're going to the prison and turning her"-he spat- "in."

Caramon nodded, taking a hurried step back from the icy rage that all but radiated from Dalamar.

-----------------------------------Flint's POV----------------------------------------

Flint wasn't exactly pleased to be shaken out of a sound sleep and dragged out into the dark night by a frantic Caramon.

Judging by the garbled explanation he'd received, Kitiara had done something (Caramon being particularly incoherent at this point), and the city guard thought Raistlin had done it instead, so they were going down to the guardhouse to sort it out. Exactly why Kitiara had been knocked out and was being dragged along by Dalamar wasn't entirely clear, but Tanis hadn't been too pleased by this.

The half elf was trying to get an explanation from Caramon when he was interrupted by a cry echoing through the grounds from the temple.

"There's going to be a wizard-burning! Come and see! They're going to burn the wizard!"

The group stood stock still, and for one moment Flint saw Dalamar's mask of steely ice collapse, muted under the flash of horror that passed before his eyes.

Then the Dark elf had dropped Kitiara and the five of them were running towards the temple.

The temple grounds were in chaos, swarming with people. Here and there the pale blue robes of a Belzorite priest could be seen. Flint caught a flash of white that might have been Raistlin's robes, but it was quickly swallowed in the howling, drunken crowd.

Sturm, who had a better view than the dwarf due to his height, was already shoving his way through the throng; his strong, clear voice ringing out over the din.

"Halt! What is the meaning of this?"

The procession had been closer to them than Flint had first thought, and Sturm had just brought it to a stop. He stood proudly in front of them, sword drawn, challenging.  
Flint could now just about see Raistlin, the young man looked barely conscious, being half carried by the priests.

"You fools!" The high priest shouted. "He's one man and alone! Knock him aside and keep going!"

Flint tried to shove his way to help his friend, but was elbowed back by a young man, who then picked up a stone and hurled it at Sturm.

It struck Sturm on the forehead and the crowd, who had fallen silent at the young man's dramatic entrance, now roared with laughter and several ruffians ran at Sturm, dragging him to the ground.

Flint leaped at the man who had thrown the stone and pummeled him to the ground, socking him in the mouth before getting up and starting to fight his way towards where Raistlin was now being tied to the deadwood pyre.

Before Flint could get much closer, however, some eager drunk had put a torch to the wood.

Flames licked up the sides of the pyre, the crackle lost in the shouts of the crowd. Flint put his head down and barreled his way through them.

He finally got close enough to the pyre to see Tasslehoff, the kender had been able to sneak close enought to climb up it and was now standing just behind Raistlin, knife working at the ropes that kept the young mage bound to the stake. Then it was over and the ropes fell free and Raistlin half stumbled, half fell to the grass below, Tas hopping down after him.

And all hell broke loose.

Caramon and Tanis had attacked, blades out and fighting their way over. A stream of strange words hissed over from Flint's right and he turned in time to see Dalamar, face a study in rage, blasting two priest out of his way with a sheet of flame.

Then the crowd surged, his friends were lost from view and Flint had more pressing problems on his hands, i.e. Beating the living daylights out of the priests who were even now trying to attack Tasslehoff.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Raistlin hit the mercifully cool ground after the heat of the pyre, he just wanted to curl up there and go to sleep. To the abyss with the priests. Still, a voice in the back of his head was franticly reminding him that he had to get out of here now.

Raistlin raised his head and tried to get up. The noise about him had, if anything, increased, and mixed in with the yells from the crowd were the unmistakable sounds of clashing steel.

The young mage pulled himself away as best he could from the now blazing pyre and the shouts of enraged priests. Someone suddenly grabbed him from behind and pulled him upright. Raistlin tried to lift the dagger Tasslehoff had given him to defend himself but his arms didn't seem to want to move.

For some reason the man (who Raistlin could have sworn had been part of the crowd earlier) didn't seem to be about to attack him, instead he seemed to be congratulating Raistlin on his escape.

The fickle mob, excited by the rescue now it seemed that a wizard-burning was off the agenda, had turned on the priests and now the rocks flew, not at the rescuers, but at the temple and it's clergy.

The man holding Raistlin was pulling him towards his brother and friends, stopping only to snag a bottle of brandy from a nearby drunk and pour some of it's contents down Raistlin's throat.

It didn't do much good, Raistlin now felt sick as well as everything else.

Neither did his new benefactor's shout of "Oi!" do much for the pounding in his skull. The man suddenly released him and Raistlin staggered sideways, swaying as he tried to stay upright on legs that seemed determined to collapse.

A new set of arms wrapped around him and Raistlin found himself leaning against someone, face pressed into black cloth that smelt of woodsmoke, damp earth and the lightning crackle scent of magic.

A hand came up and brushed his scorched hair back from his face.

"It's okay....Shhh....It's going to be okay."

Dalamar.

Raistlin smiled into the Dark elf's robes and shut his eyes; the noise around them washed over him like waves and he held onto Dalamar as if he'd drown if he let go.

"It's okay Raistlin...Oh Nuitari, let's get you out of here..."

".... he okay?"

A new voice.

"....haven't the first idea, Lemuel..."

"...hurt?... Ointment for burns...."

"Thank you....need to go now...."

The words blurred into background noise and Raistlin was almost asleep on his feet when Dalamar spoke on him, voice shocking him back to dazed consciousness.

"We're going back to the fairgrounds, do you think you can make it?"

Raistlin nodded, barely understanding what Dalamar was talking about.

It took them the better part of half an hour to get back to the grounds, half an hour which Raistlin remembered only as a fuzz of exhaustion punctuated by the occasional blur of dull colour when he found the strength to open his eyes.  
Dalamar was almost carrying him, one arm thrown across his back, holding him up and pulling him along. Raistlin rather felt as if he was falling without ever quite hitting the ground.

It was almost dawn by the time Dalamar pulled open the tent flaps. The Dark elf grabbed his bedroll and both of their blankets before pulling them outside again.

"Why'we out here?" Raistlin slurred, sliding gratefully to the grassy earth.

"Because I don't trust your sister anywhere near enough to sleep close to her, especially tonight."

None of which made any sense to Raistlin, but that was okay, nothing made sense at the moment and Dalamar would explain in the morning.

The tents had been pitched beside a small grove of trees, and the pair of them were sitting a little way inside the grove, in a small, grassy hollow. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, but then Raistlin could have slept on rusted nails.

He'd almost dozed off again when Dalamar helped him take off his singed robes and boots before climbing into their blankets. He wondered about this vaguely, they had shared their tent with Caramon and Kitiara and had agreed that, for this trip, they wouldn't sleep together.

Another question for the morning.

"Raistlin."

He groaned, he just wanted to sleep.

"Where are you hurt?"

Everywhere.

"Raistlin?"

"Tired."

"I know that, where are you hurting most?"

Forcing the welcome haze of sleep from his mind, Raistlin tried to focus on the question. His head was pounding heavily and here and there he felt the dull/sharp ache of burnt skin.

"Arms, " His voice sounded strange even to his own ears. "Lower legs. Head."

He felt Dalamar's slender hands taking first one wrist, then the other, and rubbing something into the skin, skin scorched by the burning wood when he'd slid off the pyre.  
The pain was soothed and he felt hands on his ankles, and the same substance was applied again.  
There was a soft rustle of cloth and he felt Dalamar's warm body settle down beside him. The Dark elf pulled the blankets over the two of them and snuggled in close, resting his head on Raistlin's robes.  
"Now you can sleep," he murmured.

Raistlin did just that.

_Raistlin's condition in this chapter is drawn directly from my own experiences of being drunk/exhausted/both, things I know far too well._

_Anyone else think Kitiara deserved that punch?_

_Please review, I'd hate to think I stayed up until nearly 3.00am just to have nobody read this._

_Skull Bearer._


	9. Aftermath and Departures

_I was listening to Rufus Wainwright's 'Hallelujah' from the 'Shrek' soundtrack and the bunnies demanded I write more of this._

_Also, I suggest everyone goes tohttp:www. cs. umbc. edu/ tbogar1/ dlance/ lighbulb. txt (Kyrnnish lightbulb jokes, sorry for the spacing but it's the only way I can get the whole address on.)_

_Thank you once again to Dalamar Nightson for the Beta, although sending the chapter was a nightmare._

_Miqael: The reason I put up chapter 8 and then took it down was because my Yahoo mail finally started working shortly after I'd posted it, so since I'd had no reviews so far I took it back down and sent it off to be Beta read. Thank you for the enlightening review, it most certainly made me think, and that's the kind of review I like!_

_Yenned: Thank you._

_Darkmoonmist: Sure._

_Ahn-Li Steffraini: Cheers._

_Dalamar Nightson: Good to know ;), what film was that?_

_Elly Stormrage: Raistlin/Dalamar forever!_

_Freesnow: Another Soulforge reader! And yes, good thing Dalamar was there._

_hipa: To be loved is a wonderful thing, I just wish people could understand that love is for everyone, not just the good guys._

**Aftermath and Departures**

The dogs slaughter each other softly

Love burns its casualties

We are damaged provider modules

Spill our seeds at our children's feet

-Marlilyn Manson, Last Day on Earth.

**-Caramon's POV-**

It had been a worrying night for Caramon; Raistlin had vanished during the fight and he hadn't been all that reassured by Lemuel's assurance that Dalamar had been with Raistlin when the brown robed mage had last seen his twin.

He had spent the better part of the pre-dawn looking through the fair for Raistlin, until Flint had yelled at him for keeping them all awake and Tanis had reasoned that he'd never find anyone in the dark.

**

* * *

****-Tanis's POV-**

To Tanis, the night had been incredibly confusing, and it was only when he'd crawled into his bedroll that he'd remembered Kitiara, who was probably still lying on the road where Dalamar had let her fall.

He'd meant to go out and find her, but in the space between one thought and the next sleep had overtaken him.

* * *

**-Sturm's POV-**

Sturm went to his blankets uneasy. He was certain they had done the right thing in stopping the Belzorites from taking the law into their own hands and burning Raistlin. He even agreed with the show the young mage had put to discredit the Belzorites, who were clearly duping the people of Haven.

No, what Sturm worried about was the murder of Judith.

He wasn't sure who had done it, but he didn't trust Raistlin, and Caramon could be all too easily hoodwinked to serve as a reliable witness. Not to mention that Raistlin had some very good reasons to want to kill the priestess. It was quite conceivable that the young mage had in truth murdered Judith and tried to place the blame on Kitiara's head.

It had been Kit's knife he had used, certainly, but the was nothing stopping Raistlin from borrowing her knife for the deed, perhaps intending to frame his sister for the murder. Certainly there was no love lost between the siblings.

He would have to confront Raistlin and Caramon tomorrow.

* * *

**-Tasslehoff's POV-**

The kender, on the other hand, had had a marvelous evening. Admittedly it would have been better if it hadn't been Raistlin the Belzorites wanted to burn, but still.

It had been great fun, he'd met some interesting people; including the priests who, for some reason, wanted to drag him into their temple. To Tas, who'd been thrown out of several places but never invited in one, this was highly enjoyable, and the situation only gotten better when Flint had turned up and started a fight with the priests.

Even when everyone had gone it was still fun, he'd run into some of the kender he'd met on the road and the eleven of them had a picnic beside the still burning pyre.

By the time Tasslehoff was walking back to the fairgrounds, it was already morning and some stall keepers were setting out their wares, although they quickly put them away again when they saw him coming.

He found Kitiara, lying where Dalamar had left her the night before. He'd thought about waking her, but then he remembered how people didn't like being woken up in the mornings, at least Flint didn't like it, so he left alone, feeling very noble for being so thoughtful.

* * *

**-Kitiara's POV-**

Kitiara woke up in the middle of the road, a curious donkey sniffing at her. In the chaos of the previous evening she had been completely forgotten.

She sat up, shoving the donkey out of her face. She had an incredible, aching pain in her cheekbone and her right eye couldn't open properly. Gingerly she touched her face and winced, her eye was badly swollen and she probably had a spectacular bruise there.

What the hell had hit her?

Kitiara picked herself up, swaying as the ache in her skull bloomed into a headache of epic proportions, then started slowly back up the path towards the fairgrounds.

* * *

**-Generic POV-**

Raistlin and Dalamar arrived back at the fairgrounds late that morning and Flint took a good deal of pleasure in pointing out to Caramon that his fears had been completely unfounded, his brother was fine.

Both the mages looked rather preoccupied, and when Kitiara stumbled into the group sporting an incredible black eye, the look they turned on her was one of purest venom.

Kit scowled back, before ducking into her tent to change her filthy clothes.

Tanis blinked, amazed at the hatred in the mages' eyes, while Caramon simply looked torn. The virulent emotions between them made everyone uneasy.

It was Raistlin who broke the silence first, he'd been looking at once thoughful and slightly irritated since he'd arrived. "I want to.." He sighed, "I want to thank you all for helping me last night. I underestimated these people and put you all at risk, you saved my life and I owe you all a debt." The mage looked none too pleased about this.

Raistlin felt Dalamar grip his hand hard, but the Dark elf's face was blank.

Caramon shrugged easily, tension broken, "You don't owe me anything Raist."

"Nevertheless," Raistlin glanced around the group, "I do, you stopped them from killing me and I am thankful."

"Raistlin." This time it was Sturm who spoke, "I have given the matter serious thought and I think you should turn yourself in to the authorities, if only to honor your debt to me."

Raistlin blinked, "What for?"

Sturm scowled, "For the murder of the priestess."

Raistlin shook his head, "I didn't kill her."

"You were found with a bloodstained knife in your hand, I spoke to the catchpole who was there myself."

"Sturm, I swear to you, on the name of Gods of Magic, that I didn't kill Judith." Raistlin gazed unblinkingly at him.

Sturm's lips thinned, it was no secret that he didn't trust Raistlin, but he knew of Raistlin's belief in the Gods of Magic and he couldn't really believe the mage would lie on such an oath. He sighed and nodded.  
"Very well, but do you know who did do it?"

Caramon beat Raistlin to it; while his twin would happily turn Kitiara in, Caramon couldn't stand to have their family torn apart any more.  
"No."

Sturm blinked, but in seeing the desperate expression on Caramon's face he stopped his questioning.

* * *

**-Flint's POV-**

There might have been another day left of the fair, but Flint had had his fill and more of Haven. The first thing he'd done that morning was to pack up his belongings and get ready to leave the accursed town once and for all. To the abyss with Haven and all it's inhabitants, he'd been in half a mind to even throw out their money but then decided against it, it was going a bit far.

Still, he'd feel much more comfortable when Haven was a disappearing dot on the horizon.

After shooing away yet another bunch of idiots who wanted a blow-by-blow account of the previous evening, Flint threw the last of his merchandise on the cart and began to dismantle the tent.

* * *

**-Raistlin's POV-**

There was one final scare before they left Haven, the High Sheriff himself appeared looking for Raistlin. Dalamar, who had dressed in his black robes now that the church of Belzor had been run out of town, met the man first.

Raistlin hid a smile at the man's obvious shock at running into a Dark elf in the middle of a fairground and stepped forward before things got out of hand.

In fact, the sheriff had come to apologize to Raistlin for wrongful arrest. A young novice at the temple had seen Raistlin after Judith had been murdered but had been too afraid to step forward before now. He also added in a low tone and with several glances at Dalamar, that mages weren't welcome in Haven, Lemuel was harmless but they didn't want any more. The man then bid them a hasty farewell and hurried away.

Raistlin stared after him unblinkingly, a chill running up his spine, it was only now that he could feel the events of last night starting to finally sink in. Gods, it still felt like some kind of dream, but the bright red blistering running from wrist to elbow showed that it had been very real indeed.

He fingered the dagger Tasslehoff had given him, it had come from Lemuel and he had strapped it to his wrist as so to have always at hand. Helpless no more.

"Come on," Dalamar said at length, "The others are leaving and I don't think you want to stay in this town a minute more than I do."

Raistlin smiled slightly and turned to Dalamar. The Dark elf looked...shaken. Raistlin wondered why he hadn't seen it earlier, it seemed so clear on his face.

The young mage put an arm around Dalamar and kissed him, and to the blazes with anyone who saw them.

Dalamar gave a low, harsh growl and kissed back savagely, devouring Raistlin's mouth, hands gripping Raistlin's robes, pulling him close.

Their mouths broke apart, but neither let go, holding on to the other all the harder. Eyes closed.

* * *

**-Dalamar's POV-**

_Gods, I almost lost you._

* * *

_RR please._

_Skull Bearer._


	10. Interlude White World

_Fluffy, angsty and Dark...hang on a sec...  
A look through Dalamar's eyes this time. He might seem a bit ooc but remember that after the alternate history I made for him (aren't I evil) our Dark elf's not going to be the most well adjusted of individuals. Sad.  
Inspired by the lyrics below._

**Ice and Steel- Eyes of Steel, Masks of Iron.**

_Because it's a great big white world  
And we are drained of our colours  
We used to love ourselves,  
We used to love one another.  
-Marilyn Manson, Great Big White World._

Winter had come late to Solace, with snowflakes drifting down from a sky turned the hue of steel. The vallenwoods were bare, their golden leaves long fallen and now lying under the blanket of snow on the ground.

The world seemed drained of colour, white ground, grey sky, black trees.

Dalamar's breath rose in white steam in the icy air. He and Raistlin stood on the edge of the clearing where, half a year ago, the midsummer festival had taken place.  
It was empty now, the cold having driven everyone save the two mages indoors.

Dalamar had one arm thrown over Raistlin's shoulders as they stood side by side, looking around at the frozen ground. Looking at the desolation of winter that had forced others to flee as surely as the cold itself.

Everyone gone, just them alone and a colourless, dead world.

"Is this what we get," Dalamar's voice shattered the cold air into icicles.

Raistlin laid his head on the Dark elf's arm, Dalamar could feel the warmth through his robes and cloak.  
White skin, grey eyes, black hair. Dalamar was just as drained of colour as the rest of the landscape.  
Raistlin didn't answer.

It was so early that even the winter birds were not awake yet, the air was still and it was so silent that the Dark elf could fool himself into thinking that he could hear the snowflakes brush the ground.

"Is this what we get," Dalamar repeated, "When everyone is gone?"

Raistlin slid an arm around the elf's waist, under his cloak, makeing Dalamar flinch at the cold hand against his warm skin.

"Is this what they leave us?" Dalamar mused, speaking mostly to himself. "A blank world where everything is black and white with no shades of grey? A world of absolutes"  
He glanced over at the young man at his side. White robes, auburn hair, blue eyes.

Dalamar smiled. "I suppose we make our own colours, don't we?"

Raistlin turned and smiled back, then wrapped his arms around the Dark elf and hugged him.

Dalamar shut his eyes and buried his face in the other mage's hair, hands sliding around Raistlin's thin frame and knotting into his robes.  
Raistlin kept his eyes open, head resting against the elf's shoulder, black curls tickling his face.  
Again Dalamar felt that strange almost-pain which told him just how much he loved the human mage.

Loved. So much.

And such from hearts colder than the ice around them. It felt unbelievable, but so, so good.

Raistlin pulled back far enough to place a soft kiss on Dalamar's lips, then tugged the elf's hair, urging him to bare his throat.  
Dalamar lifted his head, smiling and shutting his eyes, letting the human ravage his neck all he wanted, letting his warmth burn away the chill of winter. A lick of tongue where his pulse beat, a nip of teeth under his chin...hmm, lovely.  
So much warmer now, and he has been so cold.  
Cold in Silvanesti,  
Cold on the road,  
Cold, oh so cold in Tarsis.  
But warmer now, so much warmer that he didn't care if it would burn him in the end.

Burn, like Raistlin nearly burnt in Haven.

Dalamar bit that thought off before the enormity of it set him off shaking, instead gritting his teeth and tightening his grip on the younger mage.  
Gentle bites turned to soothing kisses along the tendons now rigid with tension. Arms held him tightly as he fought off the thoughts crowding his mind, pushing them down again, fighting the old battle he had fought since his exile, against enemies which had followed him even here.  
Push them down, bottle them up, forget forget forget forget.

He won, as usual. Held back tears, as usual. Tried to forget.

Slipped on the iron mask over his thoughts so no one would see.

"What's the matter"  
Raistlin was watching him, face impassive.  
Dalamar wondered why the human hadn't already guessed, but then which 'matter' could he pick out when everything was so knotted up it just became a huge ball of misery in his stomach weighing him down? Which one did he want Dalamar to tell? The fear of discovery when he was still in Silvanesti? The agonising loss of exile? The nameless, shrieking terror when the Belzorites tied Raistlin to their pyre- stopthatstopthatstopthat...

Still, Raistlin must have read something in his eyes because he didn't ask again but simply held him tighter, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.  
But oh Nuitari Dalamar wanted to tell him, tell him eveything, tell him how it still hurt, so many years later. He'd told him so much already, why not finish it? Just let everything go, let himself fall.  
But he didn't. Because even now he didn't know if Raistlin would catch him. Even now, no matter how cold he felt inside, no matter how much he longed, his instincts, honed from years of surviving by the worst of means and many more years keeping his secrets in Silvanesti would not let him give in.

Iron masks, held before all his secrets, all his most hidden emotions, so deep that even Raistlin couldn't see them all.  
Iron masks, impenetrable.  
Iron masks that kept the cold within his soul and let him forget, at least for a while.

The touch of lips against his own, warm. A tongue parting his lips and touching his own. Arms around his neck. _Oh gods Raistlin I love you._

_I just can't let myself trust you._

_I'm so sorry._

_I feel so cold._

They were out of the trees now, snowflakes falling and touching them, resting, unmelting in Dalamar ebony hair.

_I'm so cold._

* * *

_Yes, I know that was angsty but nessesary._

_Skull Bearer._


	11. Death and Disaster

_Pen D. Fox, Thank you! bows_

_Dalamar Nightson, Thank you so much for Beta-ing these chapters, I keep being surprised at how many mistakes I'm making, even with a spellcheck._

_Miqael, The thunder breaks, thanks for the ideas._

_For you smutsters, there's an NC-17 version of Enigma is up at (links in my bio)._

_In which the proverbial shit hits the fan, family ties are burnt to ashes and Tanis and Sturm have a shouting match_

**Death and Disaster**

_I want to take his eyes out  
Just for looking at you  
Yes I do  
I want to take his hands off  
Just for touching you  
Yes I do  
Nickelback, Just For._

Raistlin's POV-

The rest of the winter was oddly warm, but that brought no comfort to anyone. Indeed, many would have rather huddled around a fire as they had in previous years.

The uncommonly mild weather was blamed for the plague that had swept through the town that winter, claiming many lives of its inhabitants.

When the snows came to Solace they were much later than usual, and when they came, the snowflakes settled on the many new graves marring the ground.

Meggin, the old crone whom many considered mad, thrust the basin in Raistlin's direction.

Raistlin sighed quietly and surreptitious rolled his eyes the old woman's certainty that washing you hands prevented contacting the plague was exasperating. Had it been anyone else (save maybe Dalamar) he would have told them exactly what they could do with the basin. However, Meggin (called Weird Meggin by many), had been the one who had taught Raistlin herb lore and he liked the old woman, so he took the proffered basin and set it down to wash his hands.

They were standing in the threshold of Sturm's house, the patient had been his mother. Had been, because she had just died.

Raistlin stood, bid Meggin farewell, and left the house; walking out into what was rapidly becoming a blizzard. Shielding his face with one arm Raistlin groped for the handrail and started making his way back along the walkways to his own house, ducking under the overhanging braches whenever possible to get his bearings.

It was a relief to get back, Raistlin thought, taking off his sodden cloak and hanging it beside the fireplace in the kitchen. The house was empty, Caramon was probably out comforting Sturm and Dalamar would be back soon enough, nobody could dig graves in this weather.

Raistlin picked up the poker and stoked up the fire. He picked up the spellbook he had left on the table earlier the last evening when Caramon had run in and called that Raistlin had better come and see to Sturm's mother, who had gotten much worse, he hadn't been back until now.  
Still mulling over the events of the day, Raistlin drew the old rocking chair from it's place by the window and placed it in front of the fire. Seating himself in it, he stared into the fire, lost in his own thoughts.

Some time later the door opened, letting in blast of icy air and a drift of snowflakes. Raistlin didn't notice, he'd fallen asleep.

A cold hand dropped on his shoulder and Raistlin jumped, snapping awake.

Dalamar smiled behind a mask of dirt and snow; he was filthy, covered in mud and with snowflakes melting in his hair and robes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Your hands are freezing," Raistlin was still half asleep and feeling deliciously warm.

Dalamar drew a rickety kitchen chair up beside Raistlin's, shrugging out of his cloak. "I was kept out all day in this. No one else can be found to dig the graves, they're all too afraid of catching the plague."

As the plague effected only humans, Dalamar had been immune to it's ravages. He'd spent the past few weeks trying to convince Raistlin to stay indoors and stay safe, while Caramon might have been strong enough to throw off the fever, Raistlin wasn't.

It had been a fruitless argument, Raistlin continued venturing out to help Meggin tend to the sick.  
His fears had been in vain anyway, the young mage was untouched by the sickness.

Dalamar joined Raistlin beside the warm blaze as the snow fell outside.

* * *

Festival of Spring Dawning-

For years afterwards, Raistlin had said that you couldn't have found anything better to round off what had been a thoroughly dreadful six months than what the Festival of Spring Dawning brought.

Caramon had been hiding something, Raistlin had known this since they had come back from Haven, but between the plague, the cold and their work, he hadn't thought the subject worth broaching.

Now, in the early evening following what had been an unusually pleasant Spring celebration, Raistlin was wondering if that may not have been a mistake.

He and Dalamar had been heading towards Crystalmir lake for a welcome respite from the merrymaking when they ran into Caramon, Tanis, Sturm and Flint under the Inn of the Last Home.

All four seemed far too solemn for the Spring Dawning celebration, everyone the two mages had passed so far seemed either euphoric, drunk or both.

Raistlin glanced at the all-too serious face of his twin brother, and felt his insides knot up, what was going on?

He had just opened his mouth to give his bewilderment voice when he was interrupted.

"Hey guys!" A breathless and most definatly unwelcome voice broke through the blanket of tension that had settled over the six of them. "I looked everywhere but I couldn't find Raistlin- Oh there you are, see Tanis, you didn't have to send me running around Solace, you guys found Raistlin by yourselves-"

Tasslehoff rushed over to the group, panting. The kender caught his breath then looked from one unsmiling face to another. "Oh." Tas bit his lip, "We're telling them, aren't we?"

Tanis gave a brisk nod.

Well, if Raistlin had been feeling uneasy before, he was now certain that something was seriously wrong.

Caramon broke in, addressing himself not to Raistlin, but to Dalamar. "We know what you're doing."

Dalamar raised one eyebrow, to nearly everyone he looked unbothered by the tension but Raistlin could see the worry behind his eyes.

"He's been using you, Raist," Caramon turned to Raistlin. "He doesn't really care about you, he's just using you to get what he wants."

"We've been over this-" Raistlin started, becoming irritated, was this what Caramon wanted? To rehash a stupid argument?

"Not about this." Caramon said ominously, "I bet Dalamar didn't tell you what he did before coming to Solace did he?"

What Dalamar did? What the hell is he...Oh no, wait a minute...

"I'm not surprised," Caramon said, mistaking Raistlin's expression for one of bewilderment; "It's not very nice, we found a man in Haven who knew Dalamar when he lived in Tarsis. Raist, he's a whore, the man told me; said 'he'd do anything for a bit of coin, that Dark elf', even sell himself to strangers!" Caramon gave Dalamar a sideways glance.  
"That's what he's doing here Raist, he's just using you so he can get some steel from you. You can't trust him! He's a Dark elf and a whore and he just wants you to get money from you. Please Raist, he just wants to hurt you. He's not worth getting hurt for."

Raistlin stared at Caramon, He felt like his brother had just punched him. How...

Dalamar had gone white, his eyes like fragments of frosted steel, face expressionless. Only his hands betrayed inner turmoil, clenched and shaking.  
He turned and walked stiffly away, vanishing into the trees.

"You see!" Caramon accused, "He knows we're telling the truth!"

It was at that moment that Raistlin lost control, a roiling mass of absolute loathing exploded into his mind.  
An intensely private person, this prying in his life sent Raistlin into a burning fury.  
However they had found this out, the use they'd put the knowledge to was unmistakable.  
They were trying to interfere with his life. His life! More than that, he realized, stomach knotting; Dalamar probably thought he was the one who had told them!  
Dalamar, Gods, he was going to be in a state. Raistlin was still very much in the dark about this part of the Dark elf's history, but he knew enough to understand that Dalamar had trusted the young mage a lot to tell him this.

Raistlin lifted his head, and all of them, even Flint, involuntarily took a step back.  
The hate in the mage's face was absolute, eyes cold as Stygian ice. He looked, for a moment, terrifying; seeming to tower over even Caramon.

He stood there, silent for a moment, letting his eyes and expression convey what he felt, then spoke.  
"I know."

Caramon blinked, "What."

Raistlin clenched his teeth and snarled "I knew that already, Caramon, Dalamar told me long ago."

As the group was rendered momentarily speechless, Raistlin straightened up and lifted his hands, speaking two words.

A blast of flame exploded from his hands, magic flickered and the air filled with the smell of burnt skin and singed hair as the 'burning hands' spell caught Caramon, Flint, Tanis, Tasslehoff and Sturm full in the face.  
Then Raistlin threw them one last look of loathing, turned on his heel and stalked after Dalamar.

It took a while for the cries of pain to die down behind him.

* * *

Tanis' POV

"I said this was a bad idea from the start!" Tanis yelled at Caramon through a face blackened by soot.

Caramon didn't answer, he was still staring in shock at the place his brother had been, ignoring the welts and burns caused by the burning hands spell.

"Agh!" Flint screamed. "My beard"  
His beard had been set alight, he was trying to put it out and was burning his hands.

Sturm was grimacing in pain, he'd thrown a arm up to protect his eyes and it had been badly seared. "Your brother's gone mad." He said to Caramon. He was especially angry because Raistlin's spell had burnt off his mustache.

Tasslehoff said nothing for once, he was trying to put the flames in his clothes and topknot out.

Tanis was furious, primarily with himself for being dragged into this plot in the first place. He knew inside it wasn't right to be blaming Caramon like this but he wasn't listening to reason at the moment.

"Gods, what else do you expect he would do when we've not only invaded his privacy but made public a secret like that one?"

Sturm snarled back, "It's alright to talk now, isn't it Tanis? But I didn't catch you saying anything while we were spying on them! Remember that you're the one who found most of this out and stop blaming Caramon!"

"Blaming Caramon? This was the dumbest plot I've ever heard of! We're all to blame for this one!"

"And who came up with the plot? I heard Tasslehoff chattering about 'this great plan Tanis thought of', so don't start blaming us for something you engineered!"

Flint, who had managed to smother the flames in his beard, interposed himself between the two. "Both of you calm down! You're acting worse than kender! It's all very well to say what we should have done now when everything's gone wrong. Facts are, no one said anything. Reorx! I should have; if only to save my beard from that damn spell-"

Tasslehoff, clothes still smoldering and topknot several inches shorter, piped up; "That was a great spell! I've never seen it before- no, I did, Dalamar used it when we were rescuing Raistlin, I bet that's where he got it from. I just wish it hadn't burnt my hair, I liked it long-"

"I...he..." Caramon was still speechless, still staring horror-struck at the place where Raistlin had stood. "He just..."

Tanis grimaced. Oh, this was going to go badly...

Facts were, he saw them now, Raistlin had been slowly breaking ties with his twin for just over a year now. Tanis didn't know why Raistlin had been so gentle about it, probably as some sort of 'thank-you' to Caramon for looking after him for so many years, not to mention that Raistlin himself needed to get used to not having his twin around.

Whatever the reason, Caramon was going to be in for a rough few months, Raistlin's spell had done more than scorch his face and burn off Sturm's mustaches, it had burnt the rest of the family ties between the twins, leaving nothing but bitter smoke in its wake.  
Raistlin wouldn't mind, Tanis thought bitterly, he had Dalamar to turn to and rely on. But who did Caramon have? They were his friends, but they could never take Raistlin's place.

"But..." Caramon was still incapable to string a coherent sentence together. "Tanis...You said..."

Tanis rubbed his forehead, face facts, he'd screwed up badly. "I'm sorry Caramon, I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't!" Sturm flared up again, the Solamnic was still sore about the loss of his mustaches and was lashing at the nearest and most deserving target. "You didn't think at all!"

Tanis felt the anger he'd swallowed well up again. "And neither did you! None of us really thought did we? Yes, I never thought of what would happen if Raistlin already knew about Dalamar's past, but who would expect a Dark elf to lay open his soul like that?"

A Dark elf.

Tanis felt sick.

After all these years fighting the prejudices of so many people, here he was doing exactly the same thing! Here he was, a Half-elf, deciding that because Dalamar was a Black robed magic user, then he would automatically do everything for the worst reasons.  
Dalamar had lived here for an entire year, and Tanis had never seen him do anything that so much as brushed the law. Tasslehoff had broken more laws in an entire afternoon than Dalamar had done in his entire stay in Solace, but that was alright, because Tas was a kender, and everyone knows kender mean no harm. But Dalamar, no. His motives must always be dark, never mind if he's never broken the law, hurt anyone or done anything, he has to have a sinister agenda because he's a Dark elf.

Well done Tanis, you're a bloody idiot.

_The one thing better than putting Tanis in his place is to have Tanis put himself in his place. Ugh, that's one character that really irritates me, yes you're a half-elf, yes you don't really fit in; cry me a river, build a bridge and get over it!_

_Skull Bearer._


	12. Present and Past

_Showing that repressed pain can be the worst of all...not to mention the most explosive..._

_Dalamar Nightson: Tanis doesn't have a beard at this point, and yes, it was immensly satisfying_

_Miqael: Angst enough in this chapter. Hmm, "imbecilic quintet", I don't like Sturm, Caramon or Tanis, but I'm quite fond of Flint and Tas. Thank you for you're enjoyable reveiw._

_Ahn-Li Steffraini: Thanks._

**Present and Past**

_And I want to rip his heart out  
Just for touching you  
And I want to break his mind down  
Yes I do, yes I do, yes I do.  
-Just for, Nickleback_

Finding Dalamar was turning out to be harder that Raistlin had first thought. The Dark elf had vanished. Raistlin had searched their house, then climbed back down to ground level.

He spent a good half hour looking everywhere for Dalamar, until one of the guardsmen told him he had last seen the Dark elf beside Crystalmir lake.

Caramon's declaration had clearly been utterly humiliating for Dalamar, so it was not surprising really that the Dark elf was avoiding everyone.

And what, in the Abyss could you expect? Raistlin thought to himself savagely, still burning with anger. If he had been Dalamar, if it had been his best-forgotten secret blared out for all of Solace to hear, wouldn't he want to pretend he didn't exist? Wouldn't he want to hide?

Raistlin felt dreadful. Gods, he was going to throttle his brother when he saw him next.

He found Dalamar sitting motionless beside the lake, hood drawn. He didn't move, although he no doubt had heard Raistlin approach.  
Raistlin stepped closer; Dalamar was hunched over, legs drawn up, and arms hugging his knees close.

"Dalamar?"

"Go away." The Dark elf's voice was hoarse.

Well, that was expected, he'd want to be alone too. Raistlin sighed, he'd have left Dalamar to calm down but he wanted to apologize for Caramon's actions. He felt awful.

Raistlin dropped down on his haunches behind the Dark elf. "I'm really sorry for what happened there, I never thought even Caramon could be so stupid."

Dalamar didn't speak.

Raistlin brushed his hair back, stifling another sigh. He was never going to forgive Caramon for this. "Dalamar, please. I'm really, truly sorry. I haven't a clue how they found out but I swear I didn't tell them. Please Dalamar, I swear on the Magic I didn't tell them."

Dalamar still remained silent, although Raistlin caught the twitch of movement arrested.

"Dalamar?" He reached out and touched the Dark elf's shoulder.

And finally, Dalamar turned to face him.

The Dark elf's face was streaked with tears.

Raistlin stared. He had never seen Dalamar cry, not once in the year they had been together had the the Dark elf so much as shed a single tear.

The young mage hadn't the least idea what to do, so did the first thing that came into his mind. He slid closer, sat beside Dalamar, and put his arms around the Dark elf.

Dalamar made a stifled choking noise, then his own arms came up and embraced Raistlin in turn, burying his face in the mage's white robes.

Raistlin closed his eyes and rested his chin on Dalamar's head, feeling the elf's shoulder's shake under his fingers, shaking from suppressed sobs.

"Dalamar, I'm so sorry."

Dalamar lifted his head, his eyes were red rimmed and Raistlin's shoulder was damp.

"It's hardly your fault, I don't believe for a moment you told that idiot." Dalamar's voice was harsh and, despite the tears running down his face, grimly ironic.

"I swear I didn't."

"That's good enough for me." Dalamar rested his cheek against Raistlin's chest and closed his eyes, hands knotting into Raistlin's robes.

It was dawning on Raistlin that what had happened to Dalamar in Tarsis had not been dealt with even remotely as well as the Dark elf had wanted him to believe. All those times, Raistlin thought, all those nights Dalamar had woken in a cold sweat, those times that Dalamar's behavior had not tied into the perception he had of the strong Dark elf. Every time he had asked what was wrong and Dalamar had rebuffed him or changed the subject.

And why was he surprised? Would he have dealt better with it had he been in Dalamar's place? Would he be in any better state if he had been the one forced to sell himself in order not to starve to death?

No.

So why hadn't he seen this? Raistlin thought, feeling Dalamar hold him as if the Dark elf thought he would drown if he were to let got. Why hadn't he seen though Dalamar's flimsy evasions and guessed? Why did it wait until Caramon trampled all over the subject and he was left to put the pieces back together?

Because he hadn't wanted to know. Because he didn't want to even think of Dalamar being driven to do such a thing. Dalamar! Dalamar, who Raistlin loved like he had loved no other.  
It had hurt to face the subject then- it did hurt to face the subject now!- so he hadn't pressed the point. And look where it had gotten them!

"I'm so sorry." This time Raistlin's apology had nothing to do with his brother's actions.

A muffled snort came from Dalamar and the Dark elf sat back, using the edge of his robes to wipe his face clean. He reached out and took hold of Raistlin's hand with his own.

Raistlin looked at Dalamar, surprised at how much smaller the Dark elf seemed, vulnerable, aching and hurt. Raistlin could all too clearly imagine the pain Dalamar was going through; could almost feel the pain himself, it was so palpable. The grip on his hand was more needful than comforting and Dalamar's eyes, normally glinting silver, were a dull slate gray; like rain washed stone.

'I have given you all that I am,' They seemed to say, 'Now please, help me.'

Raistlin felt his mouth twitch into a small, sad smile. He leant forwards and pressed his lips against Dalamar's, kissing the Dark elf gently.

'Do not fear, I will help you.'

Dalamar slid back into Raistlin's arms and kissed him back, one hand gently stroking along the side of the young mage's head before reaching down to caress a lock of auburn hair.

Raistlin pulled away this time, though only far enough to separate their lips before touching his forehead to Dalamar's.  
"Why didn't you tell me it still hurt you?"

"Why did you not ask me why I hurt?" Dalamar's answer was as before, hoarse and ironic.

Raistlin closed his eyes. "I was afraid of the answer you would give."

"And you have answered your question."

Blue eyes snapped open, "What?" He breathed.

Dalamar sat back, his smile empty of all humor or anything else save an edge of absolute shattered despair, a bleak echo from Tarsis.

Raistlin stared. After everything, after an entire year spent together. After Kitiara, Haven, Caramon, everything. All that, and still back where they started that wet spring afternoon near Qualinesti.

Raistlin was certain he had used up his allotted amount of anger with Caramon, but he was wrong.  
"A year, Dalamar. An entire year and still you don't trust me! A year in which I have never betrayed you, lied to you or even remotely misled you and still you cannot believe I will not hurt you!"

Dalamar lifted his head, and tried to speak, but Raistlin ignored him, ploughing on; "A year I spent trusting you, Dalamar Nightson. One whole year spent-"

Dalamar cut him off, snarling; no longer vulnerable, he was furious.

"Fifty years spent in Silvanesti hiding who I am from everyone around me, who would betray me in a heartbeat! Fifty years risking everything in order to have something which should have been given to me in the beginning! Fifty years lying, cheating and misleading in order to escape exile or death!"

"Two years spent in the filthiest part of Tarsis since the guards wouldn't let me into the city proper! Two years among cutthroats and murderers who would kill me for a bent copper piece!"

Dalamar grimaced, his face becoming twisted and ugly, he reached out and snagged the collar of Raistlin's robes, dragging him forward until they were face to face.  
"Two years spent selling my body to those who would not only gladly leave me to bleed to death in the gutter but who would have happily wielded the knife themselves!" Dalamar hissed, face inches from Raistlin's, "Two years spent abasing myself in the foulest of ways to the foulest of peoples for a handful of coppers! Two years of rutting like a filthy animal with humanity's dregs so as not to starve! How dare you criticize me for not trusting you, Raistlin Majere! How dare you!"

Dalamar released him, breathing hard, silver eyes bright with unshed tears.

Raistlin hadn't moved, watching Dalamar with a calm that was false to the core, and he had no doubt Dalamar saw through it in a moment.  
Hard to be calm when he felt as though an iron hand was twisting and crushing his heart.

Dalamar closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and, for the first time since Caramon had approached them under the Inn of the Last Home, he seemed to regain some semblance of peace.

"Now do you understand why I find it so hard to trust you?" Dalamar's voice was unsteady, but calm.

Raistlin nodded, his body felt as rigid as an iron bar and it was a wonder his neck didn't snap from the motion.

"I want to trust you, I know I can trust you. But what can one year, even spent here with you, do against decades of built in belief that nobody can be trusted?"

Raistlin closed his eyes, the hand around his heart had transformed into a claw, which was now tearing him to pieces on the inside. He blinked back tears.

Dalamar lifted a hand and rubbed his forehead, the violent emotions were no doubt retreating and they must have left a horrible migraine in their wake.

"I love you Raistlin Majere, that hasn't changed and probably will never change, but it will take a long time for me to trust you like you want me to. I'm sorry."

Raistlin nodded again, despite the warm spring air his bones ached with cold.

Dalamar leant forward and brushed the unshed tears from Raistlin's eyes, then pressed a kiss to his cheekbone.

Raistlin sighed and felt the iron tension drain out of him at the touch, the iron claw releasing his heart and melting into Dalamar's quicksilver eyes.

Raistlin raised his own hand jerkily and caught Dalamar's. The Dark elf glanced down at their joined hands, then met Raistlin's gaze, the edges of his mouth twitching into the smallest of smiles.

The two mages looked at each other, smiling sadly, exhausted by the emotional rack they had been nearly broken on.

It wasn't over, Raistlin knew. They still had the long walk back to their house to look forward to now that night had fallen, not to mention that when they got home there was Caramon and the others to take into account.

But that could wait, Raistlin thought, shifting backwards to lean against a tree stump.

That would be taken care of after they had rested and regained their composure. They were going to need it.

"And so you catch me in the end." Dalamar's murmur was so soft Raistlin could have fooled himself the elf hadn't spoken if not for the breath tickling his ear.

"What?"

"Never mind." Dalamar shook his head, smiling to himself.

The two mages sat together, hand in hand, and watched the moons rise above the Crystalmir.

_Not quite the end yet, but getting there (what am I talking about? I've still got to cover 'Chronicles', 'Legends' and 'Summer Flame')._

_Incidentally, I'm thinking about giving this series a title, any ideas?_

_Skull Bearer._


	13. Fools and Hypocrites

_Dealing with the ramifications of the past two chapters and exploring the sheer capacity for idiocy inherent in the human race (and half-elven races too)._

_As usual, I own nothing, they all belong to a mysterious force known as Margaretweisandtracyhickman who's books are receiving a slash transfusion courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Skull Bearer. Ergo I do not own these characters or their world, so please don't send me you lawyers, I don't have enough money to feed them._

**Fools and Hypocrites**

_And I want to make him regret  
Life since the day he met you  
Yes I do.  
And I want to make him take back  
All that he took from you  
Yes I do.  
-Nickelback, Just For._

It was nearly dawn when the two mages pushed open the door to their house. Raistlin could feel himself sliding into the kind of mental and physical exhaustion he hadn't felt since Haven. Judging by Dalamar's expression he wasn't alone in this; the Dark elf looked worn and weary, eyes reddened by tears.

What they both really needed, Raistlin thought, was a really long, quiet rest, one undisturbed by a certain suspicious, brainless brother and his merry band of idiots.

Raistlin walked past the kitchen and stifled a groan. Said brainless brother was sitting up waiting for him. The young mage took no small amount of pleasure at the sight of Caramon's burnt face, singed hair and ruined shirt.

"Raist"  
Raistlin grimaced, the childhood nickname scraping on his already frayed nerves.

He did know, even if his brother did not, that the situation between them had moved beyond simple discussion. Raistlin brought his hand down in an abrupt cutting-off motion to stop any further words.

"Save your breath and let me explain something to you, Caramon." He hissed, "I'll keep it simple, so that even one so lacking in brains as you can understand. I will not forgive you." Each word was drawn out, there were razor blades in every syllable. "If I had my way/brother/-" Raistlin spat the word- "Our paths would never cross again. Unfortunately this isn't the case yet, but believe me, when that happy time comes, I will be delighted to be rid of your company once and for all."

Caramon's expression would have been comical if the situation wasn't so serious, it was as if Raistlin was announcing his execution.

"Raist...please..."

Raistlin made another impatient cutting motion with his hand, "Get out of my way."

Caramon couldn't say anything more, and retreated back into the kitchen.

Next morning

The rest of last night's aftermath met the two mages later the coming morning when Tanis and Flint came in; Raistlin suspected that Sturm was too humiliated to meet him face to face until his mustaches had grown back.

There wasn't much said. Caramon moped quietly in the background, Flint scowled darkly at Raistlin and Tanis looked as he wanted to be anywhere but here .

"I..." Tanis was clearly struggling to find the right words under the combined glares one icy blue, the other iron gray. "I...we...wanted to apologize for last night."

"Speak for yourself." Flint muttered all too audibly, hand going up to his blackened beard, now several inches shorter.

Tanis ignored the irate dwarf, "I had the wrong idea about you," he addressed Dalamar, "I thought, well, we thought..."

"You-" Raistlin started, but Dalamar lay a hand on his shoulder and he stopped.

Dalamar inclined his head, "Very nicely spoken;" Raistlin could hear the quiet scorn in those words, though he'd bet Tanis couldn't. "I appreciate you coming up here to make amends for your actions, Tanis Half-elven -or should I say Half-human?- Quite brave to admit one's own hypocrisy."

Tanis, none too pleased but the 'Half-human' comment, bit back his irritation and continued, "I am sorry of being biased against you because of-"

Dalamar interrupted, "I wasn't talking about that, Half-human, I was talking about the hypocrisy in naming me a whore when your own lover is going behind your back to Gods only know how many other men"  
Raistlin lifted his hand to cover his smile. Very nicely done. A double blow catching not only Tanis, but also Kitiara. It would be hard to guess who'd most deserved it.

Tanis's face flashed shock, then anger. "Who are you to-"

"Merely someone she propositioned for the night." Dalamar said, unconcernedly. "I turned her down of course-" Dalamar glanced over at Raistlin, eyes glinting "-Why do you think she disliked me from the beginning? Because I chose Raistlin over her."

Tanis stood, agape. Then he turned and left the house, an equally shocked Flint in tow.

Caramon looked at the two mages, and hurried out too.  
Raistlin and Dalamar were left standing in the kitchen, both now smirking.

"He won't believe you." Raistlin said, leaning against a chair.

"It doesn't matter." Dalamar answered, "He doesn't need to believe me. He just needs to suspect and the rest will show itself, true or not. Suspicion is a wonderful thing," Dalamar smiled, lifting an eyebrow at Raistlin, obviously thinking of when the young mage had believed that Dalamar had agreed to spending the night with his sister.  
Raistlin suspected that the Dark elf knew he's asked the Inn serving staff for confirmation that nothing had happened.

Later that day

There was one last bit of trouble. They had been overheard last night and the rumor mill in Solace was no less active than in any other town.

They had been walking from Raistlin's school, it had been the last day yesterday and they'd gone to collect his things.

Truth be told, Raistlin didn't know whether the idiot was either brave enough or stupid enough to walk up to Dalamar and ask him what the going fare was for a night of sex.

Raistlin had slapped a hand over his eyes, his opinion of humanity's general intelligence going down several notches.  
The idiot's questions was answered when Dalamar lashed out hard enough to break his jaw.

The fool crumpled to the ground, mewling, curling up against repeated the kicks from the Dark elf's hard leather boots.  
By now quite a crowd had gathered; Dalamar stopped beating the whimpering man and span around to face them, a horrible rictus grin on his face.

"If anyone here has anything else to add then please, speak up."

No one did; unsurprising really, Raistlin thought. Dalamar's hands were clenched and he could see the lightly glowing energy wreathing them, sense the magic the Dark elf was calling up.  
No one, no matter how stupid, would speak up.

"Nobody? Good." Dalamar looked down at the trembling wretch at his feet and loosed his spell, magical bolts slamming into the fool's body and sending him howling.

Dalamar threw the burnt and bleeding man one final glower of hatred, grabbed Raistlin's arm and stormed away, dragging the younger mage behind him.

Raistlin waited until they were safely into the shadows of the sprawling trees before stopping, dragging on Dalamar's robes to hold him still.  
Silver eyes stormed anger for a moment, then calmed.

Raistlin rubbed one hand over his eyes, this day was just been going from bad to worse.  
"Dalamar, I know as you do that what happened then was not wise. Yes, I agree that the idiot deserved every blow you sent him, but I doubt that the guards will think the same way. I do not want you to be thrown out of Solace and that is exactly what that man will try to convince the guards to do."

Dalamar sighed; he looked tired. He had barely slept the previous night, tossing and turning throughtout most of it.  
After the disaster last evening, a bad night and Tanis's pompous 'apology' this morning, it wasn't surprising he'd lashed out at the first plausible target.

Raistlin was rather glad it hadn't been him; if nothing else, Tarsis had taught Dalamar more than a few things about fighting. He could still hear the sickening 'crack' as the man's jaw split under the blow.

"I know." Dalamar spoke at length. There was no apology or explanation, the Dark elf trusted that Raistlin could work those out for himself, no need to waste words. "I know."

There wasn't much more to say, really.

Raistlin glanced around, they weren't very far from Crystalmir lake. It would be quiet there and what he wanted say was best not overheard. He beckoned to Dalamar to follow him to the same spot where they had sat the previous night.

It was, as expected, quiet. Nobody was around save them. Raistlin sat down on the bank of the lake, Dalamar dropping down beside him.

"Truth be told Dalamar, I'm sick of staying here. Caramon has always been irritating but this time I want to be rid of him, and I'm sure you'd be in agreement."

Dalamar nodded pensively, "What do you propose, to get a place of our own?"

Raistlin blinked, the idea hadn't occurred to him. It was attractive in it's own way, certainly, but.  
"Do you remember what we discussed last year? About traveling north and hiring out as mercenaries?"

It was Dalamar's turn to blink, then to smile, "You think it's time then?"

Raistlin nodded, "We've learnt more than enough from the books we bought from Lemuel. We need the steel and we need the experience, besides"  
He trailed off and sighed, "After last night, it would be a mistake to remain here. While Caramon and Tanis won't do anything, Sturm is another matter, a knight's injured honor is a dangerous thing. And after this morning's little revelation to Tanis, I don't think Kitiara will take your actions too kindly. Not to mention that neither of us will be able to stand the sight of any of them for a very long time."

Dalamar's smile broadened, "Yes, you are right." He paused and sighed. "We shouldn't leave yet though, as much as I would want to; Spring is high time for banditry and we should wait few months before setting off, at least after midsummer's night."

"We'd be traveling in autumn then," Raistlin argued.

Dalamar shrugged, "As we'll be going north the weather will be milder, if wetter, so it shouldn't be so much of a problem."

Raistlin agreed, then "There's one last thing, Kitiara's leaving soon too."

One eyebrow lifted, "Really?"

"War murmurs in the North."

"All the more call for war mages then."

"Exactly."

Dalamar tapped his chin thoughtfully, "You two could end up on opposing sides of the same battlefield, you know that"

Raistlin looked out over the shining water, over the last few months his innate dislike of his half sister had bloomed into fully fledged hate. He wouldn't care about leaving her to her death, as she had so clearly hadn't cared about leaving Raistlin to his.  
Dalamar's emotions were obvious, he'd detested and been detested by Kitiara from the beginning. In Haven the Dark elf would have been happy to lay everything bare in front of the High Sheriff and let them hang her.

It was with complete honesty that Raistlin nodded and smiled slightly, "Yes, I know."

Dalamar grinned back, then stood, brushed down his black robes and offered Raistlin a hand up. Time to be getting back.

The walk home was a quiet one, there was no sign of the guards and no one disturbed them.

They had just rounded a large vallenwood on the last walkway home when the saw a decidedly odd sight.

Master Theobald, Raistlin's largely ineffective teacher, was standing outside their door, tapping his foot irritably and shifting a scrollcase from hand to hand, grumbling to himself.

_Yes, the time has come..._

_Skull Bearer._


	14. Good News and Bad News

_Tsukiyo no Yume: Cheers for the ideas and for the nice review, Raist/Dal is very nice...There's not enough slash out there._

_Miqael: I'm still not sure how the Test is going to go, but Raistlin will be taking it entirely by himself._

_Dalamar Nightson: Grief, if you have any teachers like Theobald then I pity you. shudders. Thanks for the great beta work (as usual)._

_Scribbles Editor: I'm glad you like it._

_As for the series title, how does "Ivory and Ebony" sound? (Please answer this one)_

_Paraphrased a lot of 'The Soulforge' here, but there wasn't any other way of doing it. I hope I've offered enough variation that you won't be bored._

_I own nothing, the characters and half this chapter belong to Weis and Hickman checks Actually the chapter bit belongs just Weis, Hickman didn't write 'The Soulforge'. Oh goody, just one set of lawsuits to contend with._

**Good News and Bad News**

_Look at me now,  
Got no religion.  
Look at me now,  
I'm so vacant.  
-Marilyn Manson, I Want to Disappear._

Raistlin blinked, Theobald had never come to their door before and he had doubted the man had even known where it was.  
Yet here he was and on spotting the two mages he turned and walked towards them, a grim look on his face.

Dalamar looked non-plussed, but Raistlin had his own suspicions; it had to be something quite serious for Theobald to bother going himself. What was more, the scrollcase he was holding was not one Raistlin recognized as belonging to the man

He had an unpleasant feeling that this had something to do with his exposing of Judith the previous autumn, and that the scrollcase had come from the conclave.

Theobald didn't help his fears, scowling at him; "I have just returned from a meeting of the Conclave in the Tower at Wayreth, Majere, would you like to know who featured among the topics in discussion?"

Raistlin could hazard a guess, but stayed silent, matching the man's gaze glower for glower.

"Your actions in Haven were reported to the Conclave, Majere, you broke many rules, not the least of which was casting a spell far above your capability."

Dalamar snorted and Raistlin hid a smile, he had cast the spell- it now occupied a space in his spellbook as a matter of fact- so it couldn't be that far beyond his ability. Still, no use antagonizing the old fart, best let him rant and discover what his punishment would be.

"I did what I thought best under the circumstances, Master." Raistlin said, as meekly as he could.

"Rubbish! You know what was right under the circumstances. You should have reported the wizardess to us as a renegade. We would have dealt with her in time."

Dalamar didn't come to Raistlin's defense on this one. The Dark elf was for once in complete agreement with Theobald, although this was more due to his fears about Raistlin's welfare than because of the Conclave's laws.

"In time, Master," Raistlin emphasized, he'd have to defend himself then, "Meanwhile, innocent people were being bilked out of what little they had, others were being driven from their homes." None of which Dalamar had given a damn about, but he hoped it would go down better with Theobald. "The charlatan priestess and her followers were doing irreparable harm. I sought to end it."

"You ended it alright." Theobald spoke darkly.

Oh Gods, not again. "I was exonerated from her murder, Master." Raistlin snapped sharply, "I have a writ-"

"None of this is explaining why you are standing outside our house, if you have anything to say, please do so"  
Ah finally, thank you Dalamar.

Theobald sent the Dark elf a very ugly look and grunted; "Well, you handled the matter badly, but, still, you handled it. Damn near got yourself killed-"

"Now, please." Theobald's glower wilted under Dalamar's steely eyes.

"-As I said, the Conclave discussed the matter." Theobald finished, with a wary glance at the Dark elf.

Raistlin waited to hear his punishment. He had already decided that if they forbade him to practice magic then he would turn renegade himself before he did so. He just hoped that the Conclave hadn't included Dalamar in his punishment, although a small part of him hoped they had, if only because it wouldn't keep them apart.

Theobald removed the lid of the scrollcase, fussing with the parchment until Raistlin was longing to snatch it from his hands. Finally the scroll came out and Theobald handed it to Raistlin.

"Here, pupil. You might as well read it for yourself."

Raistlin swallowed, hands numb. He wondered if he had enough courage to read it.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he unrolled the scroll and tried to focus his eyes on it.

It was a moment before the fog of fear cleared from his eyes and he was able to see more than an incomprehensible blur.

When he was able to understand the words, he couldn't believe them. His stomach, which a moment ago had been filled with writhing snakes, now appeared to have vanished.

Stunned he looked up from the parchment to Theobald, "I...this...this can't be right. I'm too young."

"That's what I said." Theobald said nastily, "But I was overruled." He sent one last scowl at the two mages, one thunderstruck, the other starting to look nervous. "Come to me if you have any questions about your spellbook."

"I will," Raistlin said absently, still staring at the scroll and not even registering when Theobald left.

"Raistlin?" Dalamar said softly, "What is it?" The Dark elf lay one hand on Raistlin's shoulder.

The younger mage looked at Dalamar, all masks had slipped for the Dark elf's face, and his worry was visible to all.  
Unable to speak in the midst of shock and the first stirrings of incredulous joy, Raistlin shoved the scroll into Dalamar's hands.

The Dark elf glanced down at the parchment.

_/The aspiring magus, Raistlin Majere, is hereby summoned to the Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth to appear before the Conclave of Wizards on the seventh day of the seventh month at the seventh hour. At this time, in this place, you will be tested by your superiors for inclusion into the ranks of those gifted by the three gods, Solinari, Lunitari, Nuitari./_

Dalamar nearly dropped the scroll and turned to Raistlin, who was now grinning wildly.  
"You..." Dalamar slapped the scroll, a smile growing to match Raistlin's, "You..."

Raistlin started to laugh, Oh dear sweet Gods, was this the reward for having endured the last few months? If so then he would gladly have done tenfold more for this honor!

Dalamar stared at the parchment, smiled broadly, shook his head in astonishment; then he lowered the scroll and hugged the young mage. Raistlin rested his head on Dalamar's chest, hands reaching around to hold the Dark elf in turn. He couldn't seem to stop grinning, he felt so happy.

"Let's go inside," Raistlin said, half into the elf's robes, "We're making a spectacle of ourselves."

"Let them watch." Dalamar smiled, but followed Raistlin into the house.

The two mages calmed down a little and sat down at the kitchen table to read through the parchment properly.

The rest of the scroll went as follows:

_/To be invited to take the test is a great honor, an honor accorded to few, and should be taken seriously. You may impart knowledge of this honor to members of your immediate family, but to no others./_

"Do I count as immediate family?" Dalamar asked, raising an eyebrow at the past passage.

"A lot more immediate than any other member of my family." Raistlin answered, a bitter expression on his face at the thought of his brother.

Dalamar's smile was small but very, very pleased.

_/Failure to accede to this injunction could mean the forfeiture of the right to take the Test.  
You will bring you spellbook and spell components. You will wear robes representing the alliance of you sponsor. The colour of the robes you will wear, if and when you are apprenticed- i.e., your allegiance to one of the three gods- will be determined during the Test. You will carry no weapons, nor any magical artifacts. Magical artifacts will be provided during the Test itself in order to judge your skill in the handling of said artifacts./_

Raistlin sighed and ran one finger over the glittering ring Dalamar had given him. "I suppose I'll have to give this back to you." The ring was magical, found when Dalamar was traveling North from Tarsis.

It was a pity, he'd have liked to keep it with him during the Test. It was enchanted to protect it's wearer against charms and manipulations of the mind and would doubtlessly have come in useful.

Oh well. Raistlin read on.

_/In the unfortunate event of your demise during the Test, all personal effects will be returned to your family./_

Raistlin looked surreptitiously at Dalamar and saw the Dark elf's lips thin as he eyes passed the sentence but he didn't speak. He knowing very well, like Raistlin did, that there was always the risk of death during the test.

Dalamar glanced up and caught Raistlin's eye. He smiled, slightly embarrassed, and dropped his eyes again.  
"Is it so wrong to not want you harmed?" He murmured almost inaudibly.

Raistlin smiled and covered the Dark elf's hand with his own. "Worth the risk for the rewards, you know this."

Dalamar blinked, "Of course! I would never try to stop you from taking the Test, Raistlin, no matter what the risks."

Another smile, one that came from the warmth in his heart, then Raistlin read on:

_/You might be provided with an escort to the Tower, but your escort should be aware that he or she will not be allowed to enter the Guardian Forest. Any attempt to force entry will result in the most grievous harm to the escort. We will not be held responsible./_

The last sentence had been crossed out and below it was written:

_/An exception to this rule has been made in regard to Caramon Majere, twin brother to the aforementioned contestant. Caramon is expressly desired to attend his brother's testing. He will be admitted into the Guardian Forest. His safety will be guaranteed, at least during the time he is within the forest./_

The two mages looked up from the scroll as one, no longer smiling. Raistlin glanced back down at the last paragraph, as if hoping it would change if he looked again. It didn't.

"I am not," Raistlin hissed, "Taking that idiot along for the ride. I can barely tolerate his presence as it is."

Dalamar didn't speak, poker face in place.

"What were these people thinking?" Raistlin waved one hand at the parchment, "Why should they care if my brother comes along at all? We've hardly been close this past year and he certaintly's never shown any talent for the magic!" Raistlin smirked at the very idea.

Dalamar looked over at him. He's jealous, Raistlin realized, surprised. He's jealous because while he's going to have to wait outside the Forest, Caramon is welcomed in with opened arms.  
Caramon and Dalamar had been fighting for his attention for the past year, and while he admitted that it felt rather good to know that he was so important to at least two people in his life, he'd thought the matter settled.

Obviously not.

The Dark elf took a deep breath, back ramrod straight. "We don't have to tell him. Think about it, he knows nothing and so we'll tell him nothing. When it's time to leave for Wayreth, we say nothing. You're barely talking to him as it is, he won't suspect anything if we leave without telling him where we're going."

Raistlin smiled, grabbing onto the idea. "He mentioned before that he's going to be traveling up north with Kitiara and Sturm, we can just tell the Conclave that he'd already left or that he didn't want to come. No loss there. I wonder why they wanted him along in the first place?"

Dalamar grinned, "They probably think you still need his shoulder to lean on, his support while you take the Test. If so, then it won't matter if he doesn't turn up, does it?"

Raistlin shook his head, smiling broadly. No, it doesn't.

_Skull Bearer._


	15. Promises and Farewells

_Miqael- Thanks again for your e-mail; the Conclave is going to be more accepting ofthis, plus in the Soulforge they seem to have a more positive view of Dalamar (he's mentioned a few times) so I doubt their relationship will cause trouble.  
Anyway, the Conclave want Caramon there in order to break the unhealthy bond he has with Raistlin, seeing as that bond has already been shattered they wouldn't too bothered that Caramon doesn't turn up._

_Tsukiyo no Yume- Confetti? They aren't married -yet- ;). Cheers._

_Chetwynd- What song? No, never heard of it, thanks for the ideas anyway._

_Dalamar Nightson- Caramon's not going to be in for a good few months, thanks for the_

_beta work and the Test ideas._

_Scribbles Editor- I had a lot of fun writing that scene, thanks for the review._

_Dedicated to Miqael for he/she/it's wonderful email full of Test ideas._

**Promises and Farewells**

_Look at me now,  
I was a virgin.  
Look at me now,  
Grew up to be a whore.  
-I Want to Disappear, Marilyn Manson._

The news of Raistlin and Dalamar's departure came as a surprise to nobody, but the news of Kitiara's did. She had asked to head up North with Caramon and Sturm, without Tanis.

The two mages had been eating dinner at the Inn of the Last Home when they overheard this announcement. Dalamar hid a smile behind his hand, "Clearly, Tanis found something he didn't like."

Raistlin sneered, "After spending the better part of a year spying, I'm sure it must be second nature to him."

Dalamar choked down a cold laugh, "Well, this has been a month for breaking ties, hasn't it?"

The younger mage rolled his eyes, he had barely seen Caramon and was glad of it. His brother had barely spent two nights in their house after their row, the tension had been too great. He now tended to sleep at a friend's houses or, more often, on the Inn's scrubbed wooden floor.

Raistlin didn't care, he no longer needed Caramon and most certainly didn't want his brother's company. Had things been left alone they could have parted with good feeling, after all, Caramon had looked after him for years. Raistlin had decided to give Caramon time to adjust to the fact that his twin no longer needed him, cutting ties with a scalpel, as it were.

Well, what had begun with a scalpel had been finished with an axe, and now Raistlin just wanted to be rid of his brother once and for all.

* * *

_Last Day of Spring Blossom_

It was Raistlin and Dalamar's last night in Solace, and they were having dinner at the Inn. Unfortunately, Caramon and his friends seemed to have had the same idea and were sitting a few tables away and making more noise than the rest of the Inn's customers put together.

Raistlin sighed, at least he wouldn't be putting up with them much longer.

The two mages would be heading south to Wayreth the next morning, and they weren't the only ones leaving.

Sturm, Kitiara and Caramon were also leaving the next day, traveling North to Solamnia in search of Sturm's family. That was the plan, but if Caramon kept drinking he'd knock himself out for a week, at least, that was what Kit said.

Tanis was going home to Qualinesti, Tasslehoff to Kendermore, and Flint was going to stay among his own kind for a while.

None of this was of much interest to either Raistlin or Dalamar, except that they had heard something rather intriguing from Flint and Tanis's conversation.

The two were planning to search for signs of the old Gods while on their travels, and he heard Tanis's suggest that they all take a vow swearing that they all return to Solace after five years, no matter what.

They all took the vow, and Raistlin leant closer to Dalamar, "Did you catch that?" He whispered under the noise.

"About the true Gods? Yes."

"I wonder..." Raistlin bowed his head, thinking.

"Wonder if it might be worth our while to come back ourselves after five years?"

"Yes, if possible. I'd be interested to know what they'd found out,"

"And we should keep our own eyes open."

"Exactly."

They shared a hidden smile, and watched as the travelers' table emptied and they all left for home, Kitiara almost carrying Caramon.

Dalamar echoed Raistlin's thoughts, "Good riddance."

They stayed, longer, finishing their meal and drinking a glass of wine before heading for home and for bed; after all, they had a long journey ahead of them.

* * *

_Seventh Day of the Seventh Month_

The journey to Wayreth took them almost a month, they rode on horseback, the steeds a gift from Raistlin's sponsor Antimodes.  
The road was easy, what bandits there were must have given the two mages a wide berth, for they met none.

Skirting Qualinesti proved more difficult: Raistlin feared that Dalamar's presence would cause problems and indeed, on the last day of following the border the two mages woke to find an arrow buried at the foot of the bedroll they shared.

Dalamar plucked up the arrow and ran one finger over the feathered barbs, he looked less worried than Raistlin, assuring the younger mage that if the elves wanted them dead them they wouldn't have woken up at all.

This reassured Raistlin not at all, and he was very relieved when they left the border of Qualinesti behind then and continued their journey south towards where the Tower of Wayreth was said to stand.

Four days before the seventh, Raistlin was starting to worry, they had come to the place where the Tower was marked on their map and there was nothing there but a small grove of yew trees. Dalamar remarked that this should teach Raistlin something about trusting a kender map. Raistlin snapped back that he hadn't heard Dalamar giving any better advice.

Then, on the seventh day, they awoke to find themselves inside, not the stretch of ragged pines where they had set up camp the previous evening, but a forest of spreading oaks. The guardianforest of Wayreth.

Dalamar sighed, smiling sadly at Raistlin, "I suppose this is goodbye then?"

Raistlin nodded, a heavy weight lodging in his stomach at the words. He lifted his right hand and pulled the ring Dalamar had given him off his finger, placing it in the Dark elf's hands and folding his long fingers over it. "Look after this until I come back."

Dalamar nodded, the knowledge that Raistlin might not come back at all weighing between them like lead. The Dark elf ran one finger briefly over the back of the younger mage's hand, then suddenly pulled him close.

Raistlin clasped his hands against Dalamar's back, head resting on the Dark elf's chest as black robed arms slide round him. He felt Dalamar hang on to him tightly, lying his cheek on the top of Raistlin's head.  
"Just be careful, please," Dalamar whispered, "Please, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"I love you too." Raistlin smiled against Dalamar's robes, "I will be fine, they wouldn't have called me unless they knew I could do this, you know that."

Dalamar nodded, a smiling sadly, "Yes, of course, but just wait until it's my turn to take the Test, Raistlin Majere, then we'll see who's more composed."

Raistlin lifted his head and kissed Dalamar deeply, running a hand through the elf's long black hair. "I'll be back in a few days, just wait for me here."

One last, tight hug, "Yes, I will. Nuitari walk with you."

Raistlin pulled free of the embrace, albeit reluctantly. He looked once more at Dalamar, his lover, friend and companion for more than a year then waved before turning and walking into the trees.

* * *

_Dalamar's POV_

Dalamar closed his eyes, forcing his emotions back under control. Raistlin was right, the Conclave wouldn't have asked him to take the Test if he wasn't ready.

But oh, sweet Gods, he didn't know he would do if some faceless Tower mage came out to give him Raistlin's belongings and to tell him that his lover had failed the Test.

Dalamar's stomach twisted, then he stamped on the thought firmly. It was stupid to worry like this when there was truly nothing he could do, he had faith that Raistlin could do this, the mage was skilled enough.

He had to believe that.

* * *

_Raistlin's POV_

Of the seven magic users waiting in the courtyard, Raistlin was the youngest by at least five years. Of the other six- three men, three women- half were human, one was an odd combination of human and dwarf and the other two were elven.  
Raistlin watched the elves curiously, so far the only full elf he had known was Dalamar and he wondered at the two standing near him now.

They looked thinner and weaker than Dalamar, that was true, and they were even less friendly, scowling whenever they saw Raistlin looking their way.

Not that they were the only ones being unpleasant, the half dwarf was convinced that Raistlin had found some way to sneak in because he was far too young to take the Test, although he couldn't say how when Raistlin sarcastically asked him how _anyone_ could sneak into a place like this.

Raistlin ignored the other initiates after that, and focused on the courtyard he found himself in.  
And indeed, there was more than enough in the courtyard to distract him, it was an eerie place, crisscrossed with paths of magic, whispers sounded on the edge of hearing as magi walked those paths in and out of the Tower.

Creepy as it was to Raistlin, who knew very well what was happening, he was very glad that he hadn't brought Caramon here, the oaf would have probably tried to attack those walking the paths of magic and caused Raistlin a lot of embarrassment.  
Now Dalamar on the other hand-

Raistlin stopped that thought, it was a pity that the Dark elf wasn't here, but perhaps it was all for the best. This would be his chance to prove himself, by himself, for himself, with no support from anyone.  
And succeed he would, he had been tried in the past, in Haven for example, he had cast a spell while under stress perfectly. He was confident in his abilities and in his knowledge, both of the magic and of himself. He would do this, and do this well.

Worries eased, Raistlin relaxed and looked around the courtyard again, he'd see it again, he was sure of that, could envision himself learning in the great library, tending the herbs in the garden, perhaps one day even helping oversee Dalamar's own Test!

Raistlin smiled and looked up at the two great obsidian towers, one to the east, the other to the south, and both surrounded by a wall in the shape of a triangle, a smaller tower at each of the wall's corners.

No battlements needed here, Raistlin thought, these towers needed no protection other than that afforded by it's ever shifting position and guardian forest.

Deep within one of the towers, a bell rang seven times.

Raistlin jumped slightly, standing up straight and brushing down his robes, white in honor of his sponsor, to clear them of any dirt or twigs.

A hand materialized over the rose bed, just a hand, beckoning the initiates towards one of the smaller towers situated between the two main ones.

Raistlin swallowed, then drew his hood over his head and slid his hands into the sleeves of his robes before following the hand. The other initiates did the same.

The hand pointed at the front door, one of red wood with a onyx eyed silver dragon's head knocker, there was no need to knock, the door opened of it's own accord.

The darkness inside was so stifling after the bright light outside that they had to stop to let their eyes adapt to the change. An unseen voice broke the silence.  
"Turn to your right and walk towards the light."

They did as they were commanded, a small light flaring up ahead, illuminating the corridor they were in, small and narrow, and lit further on by heatless, smokeless torches.

The corridor twisted, then opened up into an enormous hall.

Raistlin's breathing faltered, the Hall of Mages, he realized. A place legend to all but the few who had seen it, a few he was now part of. Once again, he wished Dalamar was here to share this with.

The hall was immense, built of magic-smoothed obsidian. The unsupported ceiling was lost in shadow high above.

Around them, seated in an semicircle was the Conclave of Wizards. Twenty one of the most powerful mages in Krynn sat there, seven of each order.  
Raistlin's eyes swept over the members; men and women, humans, elves and dwarves, old and young, black, red or white robed, before settling on the man seated in the center chair.

He was old, said to be only in his early sixties but looking far older. Par-Salian, head of the Order of White Robes and head of the Conclave.

Raistlin couldn't keep his lips from twitching into a smile, no matter what happened, this was worth it.

"Greetings." Par-Salian smiled welcomingly, "Greetings, initiates."

His eyes rested on Raistlin and a frown flickered across the archmage's face.

This was about Caramon, Raistlin realized, they were expecting him to have brought his twin. He forced himself to meet Par-Salian's gaze unflinchingly, Caramon had no reason to be here, his brother was neither mage and nor was he needed by Raistlin. This was Raistlin's Test and this he had to do himself.

Par-Salian's gaze left Raistlin and he continued to speak, "You have come at the appointed time by invitation to undergo tests of your skills and your talent, your creativity, your thought processes and, most importantly, the testing of yourself. What are your limits? How far can you push beyond those limits? What are your flaws? How might those flaws impede your abilities? Uncomfortable questions, but questions we each must answer, for only when we know ourselves- faults and strengths alike- will we have access to the full potential that is within us."

Yes, yes, whatever, Raistlin thought; nervousness returning in full, hurry up and get on with it.

"Don't worry," Par-Salian continued, "I know how eager you are, and therefore I will not indulge in long speeches. Again I want to bid you welcome and to extend my blessing. I ask that Solinari be with you this day."

They all bowed as the archmage resumed his seat and the head of the Order of Red Robes stood and spoke briskly.

"When your name is called, step forward and accompany one of the judges, who will take you to the area where the testing will begin. I am certain you are all familiar with the criteria of the testing, but the Conclave requires me to read it to you now, so none can claim he or she entered into this unknowingly. I remind you that these are guidelines only. Each Test is specially designed for the individual initiate and may include all or only a part of what the guidelines call for."

If these guidelines are broken so often, then why are they there at all? Raistlin thought, nerves making him irritable, get on with it.

"There shall be three tests of the initiate's knowledge of magic and it's use. The Test shall require the casting of all the spells known by the initiate, at least three tests that cannot be solved by magic alone and at least one combat against an opponent who is higher in rank than the in initiate. Do you have any questions?"

Silence. The questions Raistlin had were locked within his soul.

"Then, I ask Lunitari to walk with you."

He too then sat and the head of the Order of Black Robes rose to her feet. "I ask that Nuitari walk with you." Unfurling her scroll, she began to read off names.

Raistlin remembered when, only a few hours ago, he'd heard much the same blessing from Dalamar. He hoped theyheld true.

As each name was read, the initiate stepped forward to meet a member of the Conclave and was led off into the shadows of the hall.

Finally, only one was left. Raistlin.

Raistlin forced down a scowl, why was it always him? Just for once he'd have liked something to go somewhat normally.

The Black Robe, having apparently finished reading off names, closed the scroll and sat back down. Raistlin was aware that he should be worried by this, but he was too angry and it was all he could do to keep his stance stoic and face impassive as he waited.

Par-Salian rose to his feet and cleared his throat, "Raistlin Majere, I believe we made it clear in your letter that you were to bring your brother as an escort, yet you have not done so, why?"

Here we go, "I didn't understand why I was to do so, Great One." It was all Raistlin could do to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice, Caramon was still a sore issue.

"We do this in the case of all twins who come to the testing, we have discovered that twins have an extremely close bond, closer than most siblings, almost as if the two were in reality one being split in twain-"

Raistlin couldn't control himself, he was fuming inside, "Had." he muttered.

Par-Salian had good ears for an old man, "I beg your pardon?"

"We had a close bond, but that is no longer the case." Well, that was a nice way of putting it.

"Really?" Par-Salian looked more surprised than annoyed, which Raistlin guessed to be a good sign. "What occurred to change this?"

He'd really had enough of this little inquisition, "My pardons, Great One," the effect of the words was somewhat lessened due to Raistlin gritting his teeth, "But I fail to see what this has to do with my Test."

There was a moment's silence, then Par-Salian nodded, looking resigned, "Very well,  
so be it. Raistlin Majere, would you be so good as to accompany Justarius? He will take you to the area where the Test begins."

Relieved beyond words, Raistlin bowed to the Conclave and followed the Red Robe.

_Here we go..._

_Skull Bearer._


	16. Tests and Puzzles

**Tests and Puzzles**

_And I want it  
I believe it  
I'm a million different things  
And not one you know  
-I Want To Disappear, Marilyn Manson_

It was dark under the trees, light from the two moons flickered and danced between the branches as Raistlin crept quietly under their overhanging spread.  
He couldn't believe he'd got in, it was said to be impossible, the elves were very, very vigilant after all. No human had been allowed into Silvanesti for hundreds of years, or so Dalamar had said.

Well, Raistlin might not have been allowed, but he most certainly was in Silvanesti.

For about the fifth time, Raistlin wished Dalamar was with him, the Dark elf would have known the area and Raistlin was in danger of getting lost. It had been out of the question of course. As a human, Raistlin would have just been thrown out if the elves found him, but had Dalamar been caught...Well, Raistlin had heard of what happened to Dark elves who tried to return to their homelands.

Never mind, Dalamar had drawn him a decent map, it showed him that part of Silvanost in good detail, especially the cave where Dalamar had found the spellbooks as well as the small tower where the Dark elf believed the books would have been taken.

Raistlin jumped as a twig cracked underfoot. You'd need a kender for this, he thought standing stock-still, ears pricked for the slightest sound.

There was nothing, not the rustle of leaves in the still air, nor the whisper of boots on the ground, and mercifully not the whirr of flying arrows.

Raistlin caught his breath, shouldered the pack holding his meager belongings, and climbed up a steep incline, from there looking out through the thinning woods towards the tower.

It was oddly squat for an elven tower, reminding Raistlin more of a mossy hillock instead of the soaring tree-like buildings he'd passed earlier. Built of green stone and barely ornamented, there was little to mark it's importance.

Just as it should be; after all, it had been built to hide away powerful magical artifacts. Not just any artifacts, but those dedicated to the God of the Dark Moon, Nuitari. And Nuitari was a jealous God, he wouldn't be pleased with the hoarding of His magic, not pleased at all.

Which was why Raistlin was here.

He knew that what he was doing wasn't right, it was theft, pure and simple. More than that, it was theft of spellbooks whose contents no white robed mage would approach, containing spells of torture, demon summoning and death.

Raistlin could tell himself it was for Dalamar, that the books were his and that he was just doing his lover a favor, but he knew that was a lie, the books were as much for him as for Dalamar.  
Anyway, it was a way to repay the Gods of Magic for their gift, in returning spellbooks that would otherwise have languished, dusty and unopened at the bottom of an elven vault.  
As much trouble as he would get into with the Conclave for stealing, the concealment of valuable spellbooks by the elves would be seen as the much greater crime, or so he hoped.

The young mage paused at the top of the small hill, thinking over his plan; he needed to sneak into the tower and find the old spellbooks that Dalamar had learnt from when he had lived in Silvanesti. Raistlin would need to be especially careful not to trigger the many wards which all but carpeted the place, or to gain the notice of the guardians which generations of elven mages had bound there.

So far, so good. He'd reached the shadow of the tower without any kind of outcry being sounded, so hopefully he was still going unnoticed. The tower was quite beautiful up close, the stone was the colour of moss and worn smooth from years of wind and rain.  
Raistlin crept up to the front door, it was built of green wood and blended in perfectly with the wall; if it hadn't been for the change in texture then Raistlin would have overlooked it.

When Raistlin tried to push it open, he found it locked.  
Well, that came as no surprise, Raistlin whispered an unlocking spell quietly.  
Still nothing. There must be some kind of password.

There was a symbol inscribed over the door, Raistlin noticed, this wasn't surprising either, he seen symbols inscribed at intervals all around the walls. More wards and alarms, no doubt.

Actually. . .  
Actually, this wasn't a ward at all. It was a sigil denoting something, plus it looked somewhat familiar...

Raistlin peered closer at the symbol, at first sight it appeared to be a serpent... No, not a snake, a dragon, a coiled dragon...Raistlin could just make out a few specks of silver marking the dragon's outline, a silver dragon then...Where had he last seen that symbol?

The young mage ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, racking his brains for the memory.

Gods.  
Something about Gods.  
A book, a book about the ancient deities of Krynn.  
The symbol, the symbol of an old God, the symbol of a silver dragon... No, not silver, platinum. The platinum dragon, Paladine.

Raistlin opened his eyes, "Paladine." He whispered, fearful of being overheard.

Nothing.

No, Paladine was the human name for the God. Raistlin could hear Dalamar's scornful tones in his mind, telling him of the morning chant to Paladine which was heard all throughout Silvanesti, a chant to a God who never heard.

Raistlin muttered the chant as he recalled it, in Dalamar's mocking, angry tone. 'From the might of the Dragon Queen, deliver us, O E'li.'

"E'li?" Raistlin said carefully, wary of being overhead or worse, triggering an alarm.

The crackling hiss of magic sounded on the edge of hearing and Raistlin's eyes snapped open. The symbol above the door was glowing, glowing upon the utterance of a word that few outsiders could have known.

Few outsiders, save those who had won the trust of a Dark elf.

Raistlin pushed on the door again, and this time it obeyed his demands and swung open, he grinned; delighted at his own cleverness.

It was cold inside the tower after the warmth of the summer night, Raistlin pulled his robes closer around his body and quietly made his way down the corridor in front of him.  
Not only was it cold, it was also dark, and before long, Raistlin stopped in order to call up a magical ball of light, floating the ghostly sphere above his outstretched hand, he crept on further into the tower.

Soon it became apparent that the tower was deserted; dust lay thick on the ground and the sconces on the wall hung empty. Clearly this place was only entered to throw in some unwanted Dark item and then sealed.  
All the better, less for him to look out for.

The corridor Raistlin was in suddenly became much more lavish, empty candelabras hung from the ceiling and rich tapestries covered the walls, showing scenes of battles long gone. Raistlin paused to examine one, it showed a golden haired elven female wielding a long silver lance and riding a silver dragon to battle against an army mounted on blue dragons.

Raistlin shrugged and glanced at the next one- showing a warrior mage calling up light to destroy a hoard of shadow creatures- before walking on. This was no time to dawdle and look at the decor, he scolded himself, he had a job to do.

It was hard to find anything here, Raistlin thought, now feeling more than slightly worried. He'd been in the tower for a good few hours and all he'd found were empty rooms seemingly endless passageways. The night was getting long and Raistlin was not looking forward to escaping back out of Silvanesti in broad daylight.

The latest passageway ended in a black iron door, it too was inscribed with symbols, not to keep people out, Raistlin noticed, but rather to keep something in. At last, he hoped, he had found something.

The door handle turned easily under the mage's hand, the door opening to reveal a long flight of stairs down, vanishing into the darkness.

Raistlin carefully stepped down to the stair ledge, lifting his hand to illuminate more of the room.

He was very glad he did.

The stairs were broken into separate steps, all of which hung unsupported in mid air. Worse, they were constantly shifting and what may one second look like a traversable bridge might warp into a tangled mess of steps the next.

Looking down made Raistlin feel dizzy, seeing nothing but ongoing darkness beneath his feet.  
Several meters down and many more across was a nondescript wooden door, set into the wall. It was unwarded and slightly open and after all the alarms and wards Raistlin had passed, this door stood out in just how ordinary it was.

Staring at the floating stairs, Raistlin tried desperately to remember some spell that could get him across, but nothing seemed to fit this. It was too far to jump and the steps moved too fast for any attempt to run across.

Raistlin looked despondently across to the opposite door, wondering how in the world he was going to tell Dalamar that he'd failed. In front of him the steps danced, wildly, swiftly..._Predictably_.

He blinked, something in his mind going 'click', there was a definite pattern in the motion of the stairs. Individually they didn't seem to move in any sort of order, but as a whole.  
Steps would float apart, then blur together, forming, however briefly, a traversable stairway. Then the pieces would float apart; but part of the walkway, that closest to the ledge Raistlin was standing on would stay together. The stairs would then come together and float apart, but this time the piece that stayed together would be further along. Again and again this pattern was repeated, allowing a traveler to leap-frog their way across to the opposite door.

Raistlin waited until the cycle had been completed, the last block of steps reaching the doorway across from him, then as soon as it had flown apart and reformed, he jumped onto the brief stairway.

If he was wrong, then he had a long drop ahead on him. He just had time to break out in a cold sweat, wondering if he had just jumped to his death, before the stair broke apart, with Raistlin riding the largest fragment.

Then it reformed, and he moved to the next one, again and again, dodging flying stairs when they came too close for comfort, slowly making his way across the lethal drop.

One last jump, and he'd reached the door, there was a small ledge jutting out from it to step on to. Finally, with no small relief, Raistlin landed on it, pushed the door open and stepped through. His heart hammered wildly against his chest in anticipation of the magic awaiting him inside.

The room was empty, earthy floor bare.

Raistlin's stomach had time to knot itself to pieces before the young mage noticed the door standing to one side. Eagerly, Raistlin hurried over to it, hand stretching out to grasp the handle.

"Hrr, I wouldn't do that if...Hrr...I was you."

Raistlin froze, hand inches away from touching the door. He turned his head and his shaken gaze met hollow, translucent eye sockets.

A guardian spirit, whispered the only part of Raistlin's brain not transfixed by this apparition.

A few seconds elapsed while Raistlin regained control of the majority of his motor functions.  
"Why shouldn't I do that?" He said when he could speak again.

The Guardian gave a horrible, rasping laugh, "Because it would...Hrr...suck you dry of life in seconds...Heh heh hrr...Nothing left but a pile of...Hrr...dust."

"Oh." Raistlin stared at the door handle, shaken, "Thanks for the warning." A quickly muttered Identification spell confirmed the spirit's words, touching the door would result in his death.

He was just racking his brain a spell to negate that on the door when the Guardian interrupted his thoughts. "You're not getting away that...Hrr...easily though."

A shiver of fear ran up Raistlin's spine, as skilled as he was, he was no match for something like this.

"I've been down here for...Hrr...more years than I care to count, and it's been very...Hrr...boring."

Raistlin waited.

"So, I...Hrr...hope you have some game we can play. Tell you what human...Hrr...If you win, I'll open the door so you can go in."

"And if I lose?" Raistlin asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh...Hrr...Then I sound the alarm."

Raistlin bowed his head, thinking. He was stuck here, he was sure the spellbooks were through that door and it seemed that the only way through there was by playing a game with the Guardian.

It would be no use taking risks, this would have to be a game Raistlin knew he would win, in other words, a game where he could cheat.

A memory flickered into his mind's eye, a summer fair in Solace, watching a con artist swindle the gullible out of their money...Yes, that would be perfect.

"Alright, one moment." Raistlin shrugged off his pack and dug around in it, looking for the trail rations he'd packed there earlier. Raistlin smiled, finding what he was looking for and emerging a moment later holding three walnuts. He used his knife to pry the shells open and, ignoring the nut, fished around on the floor until he found a pebble.

Raistlin sat cross legged on the floor and indicated that the Guardian be seated across from him. He took three of the shells and placed them down in front of him, sliding the pebble under the middle one.

"It's a simple game, I'm going to shuffle these around and you have to guess which one the pebble's under, if you guess right, then you sound the alarm, if you guess wrong, then you keep silent and open the door.

The Guardian nodded eagerly.

Raistlin hid his smile, and started to mix the shells around, fast enough to be convincing, but slowly enough for the Guardian to track the one with the pebble.  
Halfway through, Raistlin lifted one shell and flicked the pebble from under it to another, so fast that the Guardian noticed nothing.

Finally, he stopped moving the shells and sat back, "Well, which one's it under?"

The Guardian smiled horribly and pointed at the left hand shell.

Raistlin smiled back pityingly and lifted the shell to reveal...nothing.

The Guardian blinked, stunned.

"I believe you have a promise to fulfill?" Raistlin prompted.

Wordlessly, the Guardian turned the door handle and pushed the door open.

"Thank you." Raistlin bowed his head and stepped inside the room.

_Second half coming as soon as my Beta is finished with it._

_Skull Bearer._


	17. Battle and Treachery

_Second part of Raistlin's Test, featuring an unpleasantly familiar lich..._

_Scribbles Editor- I hope this meets your satisfaction._

_Miqael- Finally! I hope you enjoy this._

_Tsukiyo no Yume- Thanks for the nice reviews and the ideas, I have been enjoying myself a lot in writing this, Raistlin's far and away my favourite character and this is a chance to explore his personality. I still hold firmly with the theory that he and Dalamar did have a slash relationship in 'Legends', but this is more interesting._

_This chapter is dedicated to whoever invented cut-and-paste, they save me having to write out an excessively long name umpteen times and to those wonderful people with no lives at Raistland who wrote out the words of tons of magical spells and so saving me hours of digging through the books to find them_

**Battle and Treachery**

_But I know  
I want to disappear_

_I want to die young  
And sell my soul  
-I Want To Disappear, Marilyn Manson._

The first thing Raistlin noticed was the cold, the unnatural chill bit through his thin robes and made him shudder, the cold of emptiness, of the grave, of death itself.  
Rubbing his arms in an effort to stimulate circulation, Raistlin looked around the perfectly circular room.

There was no need for his light spell here, for the place was dully lit from an unseen source; dim light seeming to emanate from the wooden walls of the room.

Raistlin paid this little heed however, attention fixed on the prize ahead of him.

The books he was seeking were piled up on a pedestal in front of him. Black covered, black bound, they fitted Dalamar's description precisely, right down to the inscription on the cover: _'To the Dark Son, from a dark son, by night we are bound_.'

Fighting down the urge to just dart in and grab the books, Raistlin stood still, looking around the small room. There was no way the elves would leave such spellbooks without some kind of alarm to warn the guards if anyone came near them.

Carefully, Raistlin stepped forward, eyes sweeping the room, trying to find the tell-tale shimmer of magic that would alert him to the ward's position.

A glimmer on his right made him stop, moving back and turning. The dull light flickered like sunlight on a snail-trail against the ward inscribed onto the wall. As he had thought, an alarm, it was set to go off if anyone came within six feet of the books.

Raistlin crept closer to the sigil until he stood just a foot away from the trigger area, puzzling on how best to remove it. Dispelling it was out of the question, it was too strong for that, yet there was no way to get at the books without passing through the ward.

Well, so much for subtlety. He'd hoped to keep this spell in case he was attacked, but there didn't seem to be anyway of bypassing the ward without burning it off the wall.

Still keeping a few feet away from the alarm, Raistlin whispered the words "_Kair tangus moipiar_."

The burst of flame from his fingertips made him wince. No, definitely not subtle but it worked, the blaze carbonized the wood to such an extent that the ward was rendered useless.

Again, he held himself stock-still, desperately listening for any signs that he had been discovered.

Nothing, silence.

Raistlin breathed a sigh of relief, thank the true Gods for that.

At last, he made his way toward the small pile of spellbooks, eyes searching for any last trap that might have been set. Nothing, he reached the stash without incident.

Finally, Raistlin reached down with slightly trembling hands and ran on hand over the binding of the top book before picking it up.

The room became even colder.

Raistlin jumped, biting back a cry of shock and spinning round. Was it possible he had overlooked something? Some final trap?

Shivering, senses searching out the room for any reason for the change in temperature, nothing, no glowing wards, no crackle of magic to alert him that a spell had been triggered. Just a cold so intense that Raistlin's breath came out in clouds. Still he tensed, trying to understand what was going on.

When he felt a breath on the back of his neck, he nearly died of shock.

Raistlin jumped away, catching his foot in his robes and sending himself sprawling on the ground, staring.

A man had appeared just behind where he'd stood, chuckling to himself.

Raistlin stared, wondering where this apparition could have come from, there were no other doors save the one he had come through, and he would have heard them approach.

The man was old, he saw, beard and hair shockingly white against the black robes that hung loosely on his shriveled frame. Age and hate had carved their lines on the face, and the eyes sparked with cold intelligence.

A bolt of ice shot up Raistlin's spine, he'd have rather fought the guardian than this old man, whose gnarled grasping hands clearly could summon enormous power to tear the younger mage apart.

He briefly wished he'd kept his spell for this, then nearly laughed at the absurdity. What spell could he cast that would hurt this mage?

"You might as well stand up." The man's words were thin and rasping, "You're not going anywhere without my permission."

Slowly, Raistlin stood up, watching the old man warily. Raistlin wanted to be ready to run if the man made any offensive motion.

Those cold eyes raked over Raistlin, narrowing as if not at all pleased with what he saw.  
"Just my luck." Raistlin had to strain to hear the roughly muttered words, "Why, I'd wager you're even weaker than I am! What good will you do me?"

Raistlin said nothing. _'Say nothing, boast nothing, watch and make up your own mind,'_ Dalamar's words whispered in his mind, memories from months ago in Solace.

"Still-" The old mage continued, looking thoughtful, "-there is hunger in your eyes, in your mind; yes, yes, I see now. Perhaps I judged hastily. We will see. What is your name?"

Raistlin forced himself to meet the man's gaze, fighting down a shiver at the sight of those hungry eyes, he spoke quietly; "My name is Raistlin Majere."

_Don't insult him, don't flatter him, not until you understand what he wants._

"And how old are you?"

"I am twenty-one."

"Twenty-one, young, very young. Par-Salian must be getting desperate to throw you into the flames this early. Tell me, Raistlin Majere, how do you think you've done so far in this forge fire?"

Raistlin blinked. Forge fire? What did-

Oh.

The Test, of course, he was taking the Test. He wasn't in Silvanesti, had never been to Silvanesti; he was still in Wayreth. This was all an elaborate illusion.

The man laughed, "Watching their reactions always amuses me, it happens each time. Yes youngling, you are taking the Test. Tell me, how well do you think you've done?"

Raistlin hadn't the first idea, and it was all he could do to keep himself from becoming frantic at the question. Instead, he stared suspiciously at the archmage, wondering whichmage had put him in it.

As if he had read his mind, the old man smiled, a truly horrific expression. "No, I am not part of the Test, or at least, not officially."

Not taking his eyes off him, Raistlin asked; "Then why come to meet me here? What do you want?"

"As to your first question," The man said smoothly, "You came to me. Not many would have crept into Silvanesti like a sneak-thief, to steal from another wizard spellbooks so dark even Red robed mages wouldn't touch them. But you did. And here I was, waiting for you."

Raistlin suddenly felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. "There are no spellbooks, are there?"

It seemed absurd to say this when the books were right in front of him, but the man shook his head. "No, only me."

Bitterly disappointed, Raistlin wondered what he was going to say to Dalamar, until he remembered that the Dark elf was in fact waiting for him outside Wayreth forest and knew nothing of the books. "And who are you?" Frustration sharpened his tone.

"My name is not important, and as to your earlier question; I need a favor."

_Here we go_, Raistlin wondered what the old man could possibly want from him; he was young, of very low rank and the man was quite clearly an archmage of considerable power. What could Raistlin do for him that he couldn't do himself? This was too suspicious to trust.

"What do you want?"

The death's-head grin the man turned on him only made Raistlin even more certain that this was not an offer to trust. "Does it matter?"

One eyebrow was raised, "I should think so."

Shake of the head, "No it doesn't, not to you, not anymore."

Both eyebrows raised now, incredulous. "Why?"

The man smiled again, "Because you are going to die."

Raistlin finally found himself speechless, stomach knotting into an iron ball. He took a few steps back, trying to keep from tripping over his own feet.

The archmage laughed, horribly, "Oh no, not by my hand, no. The Conclave will take care of that."

"Why would they do that?" Raistlin asked, bewildered.

The mage took a step forward leaning in until he and Raistlin were almost nose-to nose.

"You spoke to me," he said softly, "They know this, and they know what may happen if you are allowed to leave with your life. They fear me."

"And who are you, that the Conclave fears you so much?"

"I am Fistandantilus, I think you've heard of me."

"Yes, I have."

Yes, he'd heard of Fistandantilus, an archmage from the days of the Cataclysm. In the desperate years following the Cataclysm that had flattened Istar, he had led an army of dwarves and men against Thorbardin, the underground fortress of the mountain dwarves.

From his magical fortress Zhaman he had loosed his attacks on the besieged city, fighting sword and axe with magic and fire, thousands had died at his hand and at the hand of his army.  
Within his fortress, Fistandantilus was preparing one final spell, a spell that would split the bones of the mountain and leave Thorbardin open to the sky, and to conquest. The spell had gone wrong, however. It had proved impossible for even the archmage to control it and had shattered Zhaman instead, the fortress collapsed, with only the Skullcap ruin to prove it had ever existed. Thousands of the army died, including the wizard who led it.

Raistlin had always believed there was more to the story than that, and now he was proven right. The archmage had gained his power over hundreds of years, an impossible feat for the human he was, and had been rumored to be able to cheat death.

He had extended his life by the means of a magical bloodstone, using it's power to drain the life from those that would apprentice under him.

Clearly, he had found a way to cheat death again.

"Fistandantilus, most powerful of the magi who have ever lived."

"I am."

And what did such a being want with him? Raistlin had a nasty feeling he knew very well what Fistandantilus desired. He could almost feel the energy it was taking for the mage to hold his body together.

"You're dying." Raistlin said bluntly.

The archmage didn't like this, every line on his face drawing to a dagger-point of anger. "You are right," he snarled, "I am dying. I am nearly finished. They tell you that my goal was to take over Thorbardin. What rot!" He snorted, "I played for far higher stakes than that. My plan was to enter the Abyss. To overthrow the Dark Queen and take her place on the throne of Godhood!"

Raistlin might have been sympathetic, but the fact that he was now certain that the old man was planning to use his body to fulfill that goal withered his empathy. Bitterly, he wished the books had been real, he might have found something inside to give him a fightingchance.

"Beneath Skullcap is -or shall we say was, for it is gone now- a means for entering the Abyss, that cruel netherworld. Takhisis was aware of me. She feared me and plotted my downfall. True, my body died in the blast, but I had already planned my soul's retreat on another plane of existence, where she could not slay me. But she tries, yes, she tries still, my life-force is almost gone now."

Raistlin scowled "And so you contrive to enter the Test and lure young mages like me into your web, I would guess that I am not the first. How many have died like this, just to prolong your pathetic existence?" If he was going to die, he may as well say what he wanted, it wasn't going to make any difference in the end.

Fistandantilus snarled, "Strong words for one so close to his own death. I do not offer nothing in return, little mage, I have lived long, long enough to know how to manipulate the past."

Raistlin raised one eyebrow, "What are you offering?"

The archmage lay one hand on the stack of books between them, "These are long gone, burnt to ashes by the fearful foolish, as you well know. These are naught but shallow copies, they hold nothing." As if to emphasize his point, Fistandantilus picked up one of the books and opened it, revealing blank parchment. Closing it again, he continued; "So much lost, but it is so easy to reach out to the moment when the flames caught, and-" Magic hissed in the room, and the light seemed to dim slightly "- switch the books."

Fistandantilus opened the book again, revealing page after page of arcane symbols, spell upon spell bound up in that book alone. "These are real, and if you agree you will walk out of the Test with these in hand, if not...well, you won't be walking out at all."

Raistlin fought to keep the longing out of his eyes as he asked; "And why would I want these books?"

"You have searched this place, risked so much in order to obtain copies which do not exist. I am offering you what you came here to seek. You will not get out of this tower unless you take the books, the spells they hold are your only chance of getting out of here alive."

Raistlin remembered the Guardian outside and couldn't refute the archmage's logic. If that creature was to set upon him he doubted he could fight it off with his meager spells.

The Conclave feared Fistandantilus, any sane person would. Enough to force their hand to killing Raistlin? Perhaps, but then was this really a chance he wanted to take? This was no ordinary risk, he was playing this with his life.

_Please, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you._

No choice really.

"I accept your offer."

Fistandantilus smirked, "I thought you might."

He held out the black-bound spellbook.

* * *

Raistlin stood before the door, the four books tucked under his arm, scrolls copied and ready. Of course there was still the chance that he'd been wrong, that Fistandantilus had been lying and that he'd be able to creep out of the tower unscathed and unchallenged...

That wistful hope was shattered the moment Raistlin opened and saw the Guardian barring his way out. "I said...Hrr...that you come in. I said nothing about...Hrr...coming out."

Damn.

Raistlin tightened his grip on the scroll he held, "I take it another game is out of the question?"

The Guardian grinned, then threw back it's head in a cry loud enough to alert everyone in a fifteen mile radius of the tower. It nearly deafened Raistlin, who felt the vibrations in his bones as the scream died away. Still grinning, it advanced.

The young mage jumped back away from the door, his hand flew up and he started casting; _"Kalith karan, tobanis-kar!"_

This was one of Raistlin's own spells, rather than one of the scrolls he held, meant to test his opponent's strength.  
Two missiles shot towards the Guardian, who let out a low hacking laugh. Raistlin might as well be throwing stones for all the good it did.

The Guardian drew itself up to it's full terrifying height, and it's own spectral hands danced as it wove a spell.

The initial bolt of magic shot towards him, and Raistlin tensed, marshalling what power he had as an internal barrier against the magic in the hopes it would stop or at least lessen the effects.

It didn't work, Raistlin was blasted off his feet, landing flat on his back some four feet away, every muscle screaming in agony as his flesh burnt on his bones. By the time he'd been able to stagger to his feet, the Guardian had finished casting the next bolt.

Raistlin stood stock still, forcing out the pain and focusing inwards. If he could not stop the power behind the spell, then he would use it.

When the bolt struck home, it hit not the barricading he had used before, but a channeling, a channeling of energy. Raistlin took the magic into himself like a conductor taking in a lightning bolt. The mage stood ram-rod straight, head thrown back and hands clenched so hard his nails drew blood as the magic flowed through him, whispering over his skin. The pain eased as his wounds closed.

The Guardian gaped at him.

"The spell, now!" came Fistandantilus's command.

Raistlin needed no prompting, his previous spell may have done little damage, but it had affected the Guardian. He lifted the scroll he needed and read it out, extending his hand out as spheres of magic flew from his fingertips, two, four, six, ten. Each slammed into the thunder-struck Guardian and sent it reeling.

This time it was Raistlin's turn to cast while his opponent recovered, and again the spheres hit home, driving the Guardian further back.

Raistlin lifted his hand, to cast again, then paused, staring. His hand glinted golden in the half-light, as if it had been covered it in gold leaf.

The Guardian snarled, grievously wounded by Raistlin's spells but having used the mage's hesitation to prepare it's own spell, it spat out it's incantation, hollow eyes flashing hatred; _"Ast kiranann kair soth-arn suh kali jalaran."_

Raistlin knew the spell, never mind that he had never heard it before in his life, he knew it. Focusing his mind once again to channel the spell, he hunched over to protect the spellbooks as the fireball engulfed him.

Unharmed, energy blazing through him, Raistlin cast his spell a third time, pouring his stolen power into the incantation.

Weakened, the Guardian stood no chance against the augmented spell, the spheres crashing into it and sending it screaming back into whatever Plane of existence it came from.

Raistlin leant back against the wall, brushing sweat from his face. He glanced down at his hand again, under the dirt and soot, he could see that the skin had developed a faint golden patina. Golden armor, he thought, armor against magic, unexpected but very, very welcome.

A crash from above shocked Raistlin back into the present, in the fight with the Guardian he had completely forgotten that the alarm had been sounded.

Raistlin decided that standing here, holding Dark magic spellbooks and with the ruins of the room at his back was not going to convince the elves that Raistlin was innocent.

Although he loathed to get into a fight so soon after the last one, there was, once again, little choice. At least he had a little time to prepare.

Raistlin was pleased to see that he had shielded his scrolls from the worst of the flames, the were only lightly singed around the edges and still clear enough to read. Blowing ash away, Raistlin stepped back into the room behind him. The Guardian's last spell had given him an idea, but he would need space.

The spell on the scroll was powerful, far above the level of the last one and casting it would be risky, but it was a chance Raistlin was willing to take. He could hear the noises drawing closer.

It took Raistlin far longer than he would have liked the cast the spell, and for one awful moment he feared he's misspoken and that the spell would vanish or worse, go wrong. But when the last syllable was uttered; the ball of flame hung obediently before the door, behind which Raistlin could hear the sound of approaching guards.

The door was thrown open, and the spell went off.

Raistlin never saw the faces of the elven guards, and was quite glad of it. Their screams were bad enough, half drowned in the roar of the detonation, faces swallowed up by the exploding wall of flame which filled the Guardian's room. The fire licked up to where Raistlin stood, he lifted his newly-gilded hand to protect his face from the wave of burning heat.

Finally the heat, and the screams, died away and Raistlin stepped out into the scorched room. The walls were blackened, carbonized bodies lay at odd angles all around, and Raistlin could fell the residual heat through the soles of his boots.

The door was no longer there, now lying in a pile of ash which Raistlin stepped over as he made his way back to the floating staircase.

It hung motionless, a frozen stairway hanging over the long drop. The elves must have had a way to stop the dweomer. Raistlin was grateful, he was feeling deeply rattled and not remotely in the mood for puzzles. He reached the opposite door and opened it.

Fistandantilus was waiting for him.

The archmage's form was wispy and insubstantial, drained from the energy he had put in to retrieve the books Raistlin now held.

Raistlin smiled, how could anyone be scared of that? Dalamar would have laughed.

"I will take my payment now." Fistandantilus's voice was just as weak as his body.

Raistlin lifted his arm to ward off the hand even now reaching for his chest. "Thank you for your valued assistance, Archmagus, but I rescind my part of the bargain."

"What did you say?" Fistandantilus's voice was deadly.

Raistlin forced down his fear, he could do this. He had the books, he had copied the scrolls, he had cast the spells. He could dispel this old wraith.

"These books-" Raistlin ran one hand lovingly over the bindings "- are mine now, as you yourself said, so your assistance is no longer needed. Go back to your Plane and await your next victim." Raistlin decided to push his luck a little in taunting the archmage, "And please remember to give my _warmest_ greetings to the tower Guardian when you see it there."

"You break your promise-" Fistandantilus snarled.

Raistlin cut him off with a wave of his hand, "I am no Solamnic knight, no high noble. I am a mage and a Dark elf's lover, what should I care of honor?"

Fighting down the swell of satisfaction, lest he start grinning, Raistlin bowed to the archmage, injecting just a bit of mockery into the motion before sidestepping the old man's insubstantial form and walking down the corridor.

He almost missed Fistandantilus next words, hissed in pure loathing. "Mock me, will you? Your Test is not over yet, my fine young mage and either I will take what's mine or I'll see that Dark elf of yours crying over your grave before the day is out."

* * *

Raistlin had reached the front doors of the tower without meeting a single soul, living or dead. It was with a feeling of great relief that he reached out and took hold of the door handle.

The world melted away.

For one moment, Raistlin thought that his Test was finally over, but when the world waxed back into view he saw that he was not in the Tower of Wayreth, but rather in the last place he'd expected.

On the shore of Crystalmir lake, it's waters shining silver in he moonlight.

Raistlin blinked, it was the spot where he and Dalamar had spent many evenings, whether good; like the Dark elf's Day of Life Gift, or bad; like day Caramon had announced Dalamar's past for the whole of Solace to hear.

Was this still part of the Test? It had to be. Raistlin gritted his teeth and glanced around furtively, he was alone.

Perhaps this was a safe spot? Somewhere to rest after the two grueling battles? Raistlin hoped so, the adrenalin was wearing off and he felt exhausted.

After one final glance around to make sure he really was alone; with no Guardians, Silvanesti elves or mad liches in sight, Raistlin relaxed, and sat down on the grass. He put down the spellbooks and scrolls and leant back against the tree stump as he had many times before and looking up at the stars. Just a few minutes rest to reorganize his mind and recover from the events of the last hour.

It was the hiss and inaudible crackle of magic that alerted Raistlin to the danger. He jumped to his feet and looked around for the source, eyes alighting on a strange procession making it's way across the lake.

Black, a floating sea of black was undulating it's way towards him, Raistlin stared, eyes straining to make out what it was.

The cold was his first clue, the chill of death washed over him again, cold he had only felt while in the presence of the restlessdead. The dark came closer, and Raistlin saw that it was made up of shadows, many individual shadows. A little closer, and he caught sight of one and realized the truth.  
They were the animated shades of the elves he had slain in the tower.

Raistlin barely had time to snatch up his books and scrolls before they were upon him.

A dark tendril that had once been a warm, solid limb caught hold of his arm and Raistlin shuddered as the cold entered his bones, a wave of weakness nearly making him drop the precious spellbooks.

Another one, touching the back of his neck. Raistlin screamed in pain as the cold invaded his mind, freezing thought.

Another, and he thought he could hear Fistandantilus's laughter in his mind as the dark hand closed on his wrist.

When the fourth reached out, Raistlin was on his knees, no longer able to hold himself up, he was rapidly losing consciousness. Gods! That he come so far only to end here!

Come through battle and through fire, through the tower...

The tower...

Raistlin's mind clutched at the thought like a drowning man to a rope, the tower...

Something inside the tower...something...he felt dizzy, woozy, his breath rattled in his lungs.

A picture, a tapestry...

A golden-haired woman riding a dragon...no, not that one, a mage, a mage fighting off shadows, shadows like the ones which were even now taking their revenge beyond death.

Fighting them off...

What spell? Raistlin tried to force his sluggish mind to obey him. What spell?

The spell...

Raistlin staggered to his feet and threw one hand into the air _"Shirak!"_

The shadows leaped back, unable to go near the sphere of burning light wreathing Raistlin's hand. The young mage stumbled back against a tree, his whole being focused on keeping the light bright and unwavering.

The shadows gathered on the edge of the light, circling like vultures.

Oh, sweet Gods he was tired, but he just needed to make one final effort, then it would be over. He fumbled for his scrolls with fingers gone numb from cold, finally unrolling the one he needed. Raistlin scanned it , repeating it over and over in his mind until he had it right. He had to get it right first time.

_"Dulak."_ The light went out and the shades once again slid towards Raistlin.

Raistlin shut his eyes and his hands moved clumsily, shaping the magic. _"Shirki muan parbilakir ast!"_

If the screams had been bad the first time, they were far worse now as the shades were dragged back into whatever afterlife they had been called from. Raistlin fell to his knees, head bowed, hands over his ears.

He might have blacked out for a moment, he didn't know. But when the screams had died and he'd looked up again, Fistandantilus's face was inches from his own.

There was not even the merest shred of the illusion left now, the old man's face was little more than a skull, bones showing clearly through the skin, maggot holes pock-marked what flesh was left and his breath was putrid.

_"Not so arrogant now, youngling?"_

Raistlin felt a wave of despair sweep through him, so Fistandantilus had come, as he had said, to claim what was his. And this time Raistlin hadn't the strength to oppose him.

The archmage reached out a skeletal hand, while the other clutched a bloodstone pendant around his fleshless neck. The talons touched Raistlin's chest, running teasingly against the skin, tearing his robes to ribbons before plunging into seize his heart, pausing only to rip and tear at the surrounding tissues as punishment for his arrogance.

Raistlin screamed in pain and fury. Finding strength from some source, he focused his mind on his own hand, on the armor that had served him so well this far, it would serve him once more.

He punched his hand through Fistandantilus's own chest, to grasp hold of the archmage's black, rotted heart.

The old lich's eyes went wide in shock, Raistlin smiled, feeling blood drip from his mouth as he spoke. "You may take my life...but I accept only equal trade..."

Then his eyes rolled back and everything went black.

_Damn that was a long chapter! Not to mention easily the hardest I've ever written. Please review, I'd hate to think that I've stayed up until 5am for nothing._

_Skull Bearer._


	18. Flesh and Bone

_At last, the end of Ice and Steel! It seems fitting to announce the series title at this point:_

**_Ivory and Ebony_**

**Flesh and Bone**

_Each time I make my mother cry an  
Angel dies and falls from heaven.  
When the boy is still a worm it's hard to  
Learn the number seven.  
-Cryptorchild Marilyn Manson_

Raistlin recalled little of the next few hours, all he could remember was staring into a mirror, trying to find some semblance of himself in his reflection. Then watching the flesh melt from his bones until he was left staring at his own skull.

He'd ground the heels of his hands into his eyes until the image went away, wishing he could erase the mental image as easily.

* * *

He had awoken coughing blood, still clutching the books he had risked so much for. He had felt Fistandantilus's taloned hands tearing his lungs to pieces, could still feel the slight but ever-present drain of life-force that kept the lich alive and prevented the wounds from healing.

Raistlin fought down the shudder again, Fistandantilus had won, but the young mage knew it would be a hollow victory, for all that the lich didn't know that yet, didn't know that Raistlin could remember every moment of their twisted encounter, didn't know thatwhile the undead mage drew on Raistlin's life, Raistlin could draw on the archmage's power.

No too much, of course, or Fistandantilus would realise the truth, but enough, just enough.

Raistlin looked down at his hands for the hundredth time. His armor of magic was still there, a glittering, metallic gold, shielding him. He lifted his hand and touched his long hair.  
The mage had heard of shock turning a person's hair white, and he had no doubt that this was what had happened to him. Raistlin pulled on a lock of it, it was the colour of ivory.

And his eyes.

That had nothing to do with Fistandantilus, he knew, it had been some kind of lesson from the Conclave. Nothing the lich had done could have explained why his eyes had become a strange, topaz-gold colour, with hourglass pupils. Nothing the undead spellcaster had done could explain why everything decayed in Raistlin's eyes.

Even the forest he was walking through withered and died, as if it was midwinter instead of summer. Leaves shrivelled on their branches, which became as gnarled as Fistandantilus's old bones, twisted with age and death.

Raistlin shivered, wrapping his blood-red robes tighter around his body and fighting down a coughing fit. He was stumbling through the Guardian Forest; the spellbooks he had risked life and limb for were safe in his pack, and he was clutching the bundled up remains of his white robes, now badly shredded from the Test.

In his hand, he was holding one of the few gifts he had gained from the Test. It was a long staff, mounted with a crystal clutched in a Dragon's claw.

The staff of Magius.

Par-Salian had given it to him after the Test and when Raistlin had asked why, the mage had muttered something about the time not being right until now, then hurried away rather quickly.

Exactly why the time was now right for the use of a staff who's sole purpose was to defeat Dragons was still unclear, but Raistlin had his own, rather pessimistic, suspicions.

He brushed his hand gently over the magic-warm wood, feeling the tingle under his fingers. Then his hand clenched hard around the staff as the cough he had been trying to supress racked his frail body.

He had been told he could stay in the Tower for as long as it took for him to recover. Raistlin had answered caustically that he'd be staying there until the End Times if that was the case.

He'd stayed only long enough to regain the strength to walk, then he'd left. He didn't really know what he pushed him to leave so fast.

No, that was a lie, he knew very well why he'd left in such haste. Dalamar.

He'd wanted to get that meeting over and done with as quickly as possible, so as to give himself the least amount time to dwell on it. He'd snatched the books Par-Salian had given him that would help him uncover the powers of the staff, sent the archmage one final, poisonous glare and left without another word.

The spasms passed, and Raistlin straightened up, hanging onto the staff for support as he forced air into his lungs.

Par-Salian he given him a recipe for a brew that would help his cough, but he hadn't given himself time to brew it. Gasping, he forced himself to keep moving, it wasn't far now.

Refusing to let himself think, Raistlin pushed on.

* * *

It took him the better part of fifteen minutes to finally reach the clearing where he had left Dalamar yesterday. Gods, Raistlin thought, it may as well have been a thousand years now, it seemed impossible how much things could change in so few hours. It had been early morning yesterday when he'd left Dalamar and it was now late afternoon. Gods.

* * *

The look on Dalamar's face when Raistlin emerged from the tree line was something the human mage never forgot. The Dark elf had been sitting down beside the beginnings of a fire, but he'd quickly jumped to his feet when he'd heard Raistlin approach.

The moment he caugh sight of the mage, the elf's normally pale face had gone chalk white.

Raistlin's insides seemed to knot up at the expression of shock and unfathomable horror that tore across the Dark elf's face. Dalamar's gray eyes widened and Raistlin was stunned to see that he seemed to be biting back tears.

"Dalamar?" Raistlin's voice rasped hoarsly.

The tension in Dalamar's body broke as if a string had been cut, "Raistlin?" The amazement in the Dark elf's voice was palpable.

It was one of those moments where everything stood still, a moment that could be recollected, no matter how many years later, with perfect clarity.

Raistlin stood at the edge of the clearing, still holding the bundle of his old robes and with the staff of Magius clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were turning white even under his golden skin. His face held forced impassivity.

Dalamar stood on the other side, having stumbled back when he'd seen Raistlin. He was shaking slightly, the only movement on the canvas of the moment other than the flickering fo the fire. The elf's silver-gray eyes were fixed on Raistlin's.

Both stood, unmoving, for that moment. Then the one after that. And after that. After...

Dalamar shattered the canvas, rushing forwards and throwing his arms around Raistlin, crushing the younger mage against his chest.

Raistlin slid his own hands around the elf's waist, bewildered at this sudden turn of events. It was only when Dalamar caught hold of his chin and pulled his head up until he was eye-to-eye with him that Raistlin realised.

Dalamar hadn't recognised him at first. It was only when he'd spoken that the Dark elf had understood.

Raistlin could all too easily imagine what Dalamar had thought when he'd first appeared. A red-robed mage whom the elf had never seen before, holding a tattered set of white robes.

Sweet Gods, Dalamar must have believed that this was a Tower mage come to tell him that his lover had failed the Test. No wonder he'd been so horrified.

Raistlin straightened up in Dalamar's arms and pressed his lips firmly against the elf's, tasting salt from the fallen tears. It was only the second time Raistlin had seen Dalamar cry, and this time it was out of sheer relief.

They stood there a long while, each gently devouring the other's mouth. It was only when Raistlin's lungs threatened to close that he broke away, gasping for air.

Dalamar had kept a hold on Raistlin's chin, now he looked intently at the mage; turning his head first one way, then another, finally he leant forward and looked hard at Raistlin's face.

Then he smiled sadly; "I'll miss your eyes."

Raistlin almost smiled, feeling better now than any time since he'd awakened, so very glad that Dalamar had diffused the tension. He lifted one hand and ran it down the Dark elf's cheek. He had been worried, but it would be alright, at least here.

Raistlin shut his eyes, blocking out the world for the moment and lying his head against Dalamar's shoulder. He left out a long, shuddering sigh as the Dark elf stroked his hair lovingly.

There was no need for words, not when so much was being said. Words would cheapen emotions like these. It would take far more than the Test to shatter the bond they shared. Far more than Fistandantilus.

And far more that Par-Salian too, Raistlin knew; still stroking the smooth skin under his fingers. Smooth, young skin, even in his cursed eyes, remaining untouched by time even as the very world crumbled around them.

Raistlin smiled.

_The end...of that particular installment._

_Skull Bearer._


End file.
